


After the Storm

by Samari1



Series: Cold Broken Road [2]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (more to be added as needed), BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Divergence, Clint Barton Has PTSD, Deaf Clint Barton, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Recovery, clowns are evil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samari1/pseuds/Samari1
Summary: After Stark’s downfall, Clint and James need time.Part two of a series. You need to read part 1 for this to make any sense.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Cold Broken Road [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908991
Comments: 20
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist:  
> Avicii- hold the line  
> The run and go- twenty one pilots  
> After the storm- mumford and sons  
> Alone Together- Fall Out Boy  
> From Finner- Of Monsters and Men  
> Warriors- Imagine Dragons 
> 
> There will be mentions of Clint's childhood and James' time in HYDRA's hands. Mind the tags please!

James set off towards a safe location. Clint still hadn’t said anything, so he was aiming for one of the safehouses he’d set up with the help of the ever competent and confidential Swiss bank employees. No one else knew about them. He wanted utter and complete privacy. No chance of anyone bothering them. 

They had all of their weapons, clothes, Lucky’s things, and their motorcycles. A few other assorted items they’d tossed in as well, like the heavy duty security that could be set up anywhere. It seemed that being paranoid and planning for contingencies had been an excellent idea after all. 

Clint was curled up in the co-pilot seat under the incredibly soft blanket that had previously lived on the sofa at their apartment, stuffed penguin in his arms. They both needed a shower after the battle, but neither had wanted to stay long enough. The speed in which Clint packed had been the only clue James needed to get gone as soon as possible. He’d had to stop his guy more than once or risk Clint hurting himself as frantic as he’d been.

James wasn’t sure what to do or say, only that he needed to figure it out before Clint was lost in his head completely. So, he tried talking. It seemed to help before. He talked of growing up an army brat and how his father took him to work with him after his mother had died. How the soldiers were impressed with his aptitude for picking up fighting skills and his ease with weapons. He talked about the training accident that killed his father, leaving him an orphan. How he’d convinced the soldiers, his father's friends, to allow him to stay on so he wouldn’t be on the streets or an orphanage.

He could see Clint relaxing the longer he talked, but wasn’t certain Clint was actually listening to his words or voice. So, he switched to explaining where they were heading and how he’d bought a plot of land out in the middle of Massachusetts, close to three towns but still out enough to be safe. The house was older than the country itself and sat in the middle of an apple orchard. 

He landed, the quinjet fitting into the custom garage building as intended. He’d not tested it until now. The jet powered down and he gave Clint a moment to take in the other half of the building. It contained a small work area for mending weapons, a nondescript truck, and basic gym equipment. 

He stood a few minutes later, holding out his hand. Some of the tension pulling at him loosened when Clint took his hand and allowed himself to be tugged to his feet. “I love you.”

Clint blinked as if it took an enormous effort to listen to James’ words. Or maybe even that he was trying to process them. Clint signed: ‘love you’. James smiled and squeezed his hand. Lucky whined, so he led Clint towards the bay doors. He grabbed a duffle and noticed that Clint went for the case of security equipment.

They stepped out to a beautiful night sky full of stars. It was a few short steps to cross the yard, as he’d taken the actual door rather than the breezeway connected to the house. “I can set up the security, boost what is already here, whilst you shower.”

Clint gripped his hand tighter. 

“We can boost security and shower together. Sound like a better plan?”

It seemed the only viable option. At least the only one he could come up with that seemed to be acceptable to Clint. The blond managed a nod as James set about disengaging the security so they could get inside. “When we boost it, we can set it to not go off if Lucky wants to wander. I had Shuri create a collar for him, in case we needed to disappear, it will keep him inside the secure zone but won’t harm him.”

“Same,” Clint whispered roughly. 

James wasn’t sure exactly what Clint meant, but was cautiously hopeful that he’d said even one word. They stepped into the kitchen and Clint immediately set the case on the counter, swapping out Lucky’s collar. 

James turned, only stepping far enough away to reveal the hidden panel behind the open shelving. He did not let go of Clint as he accessed security and began resetting the outer perimeter and house settings. “The root cellar is the control room, but we can access most everything from here with my override. I put in a safe room too, okay added modern things to the existing one. There is an old Underground Railroad escape tunnel that I shored up. We can take our bikes to the other end, if you want, I have it secured. This place has a few secrets too, ones you can figure out once you are up to it.”

Clint joined him, laying out what he would need and boosting the security one-handed. When that was done to Clint’s satisfaction, James found himself led to the door to the breezeway. It took a second for it to register that Clint tapped ‘food’ on his hand. He smiled at a small sign that Clint was still there, just buried in silence at the moment. They crossed the breezeway and carried in the food they’d packed and the rest of their belongings. He would have laughed, if not for the barely hidden terror in Clint’s eyes, as he found his free arm piled high with their gear. He dared to brush a light kiss on Clint’s cheek instead. 

Putting the food away was interesting but they managed to work out a system. Lucky’s bowls and bed were set out next. 

James took over from there, leading Clint through the house and opening weapons caches he’d installed on all the secret trips he’d made here since purchasing the property. He circled back, grabbing the duffle he knew contained toiletries and clothes they could sleep in. Lucky was curled up asleep as if saying, ‘I’m good, you two figure your shit out’. 

When they reached the main bathroom, he stopped just outside of the room and tried the simple questions that had been working so far. “Shower?”

Clint’s face lit with delight. Yeah, James had upgraded the third floor bathroom after seeing the hedonist's dream bathrooms in the Tower. The floor was set up almost like an apartment and had a secure door that cut it off from the rest of the house. Because paranoia. The bathroom, well he may have gone overboard, but oh well. 

There was a long counter just outside the bathroom for weapons and clothes. He’d taught himself many, many skills in getting this place up to his standards. Most of them would give the local Historical Society a collective coronary, but since they’d never find out about all of the changes they would not ever have approved, he didn’t give a shit. James started removing his weapons, watching out of the corner of his eye to see if Clint would do the same. He was down to his tac pants, boots, and uniform top and Clint still stood fully clothed, staring at the mirror and gripping his hand. 

“My turn to help you like you did for me,” he said, keeping his tone light. “There is a shelf just outside the shower where you can put a gun or two. That half wall is a great place to set knives too. So, can I help you?”

He needed some sign, some form of consent before he did anything. Those links Sam sent had been very helpful. He wasn’t the only one who had unwritten rules about touching and he wasn’t going to do anything that could harm Clint further, if he could help it.

Clint nodded. 

James began taking off weapons, leaving a gun and two knives for now. He slid his free hand up to cup Clint’s neck, his thumb rubbing the pulse point. “I won’t move this hand.”

He shifted Clint, getting him to sit on the counter. From there he could get off his boots and socks. “Still good?”

Clint nodded. 

Shifting him back to his feet with a light squeeze of his neck, James managed to get his pants and boxer briefs off. “Switching hands, okay?”

Another nod. 

His free hand settled at Clint’s waist and he tugged at the neck of the shirt, Clint automatically lifting his arms. 

“You’re beautiful, ya know.” He wasn’t sure why his brain decided he needed to say that right now, because it definitely wasn’t the time, but it was done. He only hoped it wasn’t the worst thing to say.

Clint shook his head, tugging at the hem of James’ shirt. “You.”

He smiled. Progress! One word at a time was slow progress, but progress was good. He allowed his shirt to be tugged off, switching which hand was touching Clint to get both arms out. When Clint crouched down, he shifted back to the touch on his neck that seemed to soothe the most. He was soon naked as well. 

Clint stood, taking his hand again and leading him to the shower. James grabbed the toiletries and allowed himself to be hauled about. Clint fiddled with the controls and sighed. He shifted, wrapping an arm loosely around Clint’s waist from behind. “Good?”

“Yes.”

They showered, both cautiously touching one another as they cleaned off the grit and dust. It wasn’t sexual or anything like that, but somehow James still felt it was a Very Big Deal. Clint was allowing him far more touch than before. He set up a prayer to whatever god or gods might be listening that he was doing things the right way, the way that would help Clint not harm him further. 

He retrieved the sheets from the linen closet and they both were smiling as they struggled to make the bed, though he could see the breakdown imminent in Clint’s eyes. After one more trip down to get the penguin and blanket from their apartment, they curled up in the massive bed that James had specially ordered. Talking helped before and he was going to do all he could to try and heal both of them, as much as they could be after all they’d been through.

“I think,” he whispered, not having even tried to talk Clint into removing his aids, “When I started upgrading this place, it was a haven. I’d slip away from the Tower for a few days and just focus on fixing things or making it as safe as I could. I kept calling myself an idiot. I was certain I’d be alone forever and so this huge, rambling house was just a whole lot of stupidity.”

Clint cuddled closer. 

“Then you decided that I needed you in my life. It was a pretty sweet deal. Amazing and gorgeous. Caring in a quiet way that created this bubble of calm in a mad world. How could I resist you? Why would I?”

“Not,” Clint muttered grumpily. 

“Not what? Amazing? Gorgeous? Pfft, I love you just how you are. I’m going to keep saying it even if you don’t believe it. I do.”

Clint curled tighter against him. His grip would have broken ribs on an average man, but James was tougher than that. Hell, broken ribs would be fine if it meant Clint finally let go of his control that was holding in everything.

Running a hand over the spiky blond hair he loved playing with, James pushed more than he’d ever done before. “You need to let go, baby. I’m not going to judge you or walk away. No. Matter. What.”

Clint shuddered and then broke. James shifted, holding him as he sobbed for hours and hours. Somewhere along the line, he ran out of tears and it was just this broken sound like that of a wounded animal. He fucking hated it, but James was holding out hope that it would help. Clint collapsed, using him like a blanket and snoring lightly, around dawn. 

“Sleep, baby, just sleep. I’ve got you.”

James wasn’t sure why he felt the need to use that particular endearment, just that it was the only one that felt right. He smiled wryly, it was also the only one likely to get Clint’s back up. He didn’t mind that prospect either, it did something to him when Clint was bratty and grumpy. 

He shifted only enough to tap the tablet propped up on the shelf he’d built and used in place of a bedside table. The tablet had its own slot so it could be seen from the bed and was part of the security system. He could see Lucky patiently waiting by the back door. One eye on the tablet, so the dog wouldn’t wait too long to be let back in, James allowed himself to drift a bit. He wasn’t sure how long he drifted, only that somewhere along the line he’d let the dog back in before drifting back off. He was completely fine with laying here until they needed food and coffee.

—**—

Clint blinked, his eyes, ears, and throat sore. He panicked as to why that was. It was only James’s sleepy murmurs that relaxed him. Then he remembered and would have fallen over with relief if he’d been standing up. Memories crashed down and he pushed back the urge to scream. 

“Was it,” he paused, hoping the healing thing would kick in soon, because sore throats had never meant anything good in his life. No. It was not the time for those memories. He shoved them down, focusing on the most recent trauma instead. “Nightmare?”

James’ whiskey brown eyes blinked a few times and he sighed, not moving from his sprawl over Clint. “I wish it was, baby. Stark is dead and dust, literally. So that part was good, yeah?”

“Barney is dead.” It wasn’t a question. He had to say it though, just to make sure it was real. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Their relationship had become so complicated. It had been easy once, when they were kids banding together to hide from their father’s temper. God he had to stop talking until his throat healed. Stop thinking before his head exploded. 

James shifted. He never once let go as he moved them around a bit. Clint didn’t mind in the least that he was curled up on James’ lap, the blanket covering him up to his chin. “He is. I’m sorry.”

Clint shifted, just enough to get his hands from under the blanket. He signed: ‘throat hurts.’ He was trying to process what it meant that his last blood family was dead, it was just too much right now. He could focus on other things. Yeah, that was good. 

James glanced over to the tablet on the shelf that served as a table by the bed. “It’ll heal soon, you barely slept an hour.”

‘Did you?’

“Sleep? A bit. I was taking care of you.”

Clint sighed. ‘You need sleep too.’

“Not for a couple of days.” He got that stern no-nonsense look on his face that did all sorts of weird things to Clint’s brain. And body. He felt himself blushing and wished he could kick himself.

‘You sleep.’ Clint was being a stubborn shit, but this was important to him. ‘Need sleep. Sleep.’

“I’m not tired.” 

One brow lifted and James used that tone that made Clint squirm. He pushed the urge away and focused on distracting James. ‘Lucky? Food?’

“Already been out exploring and sure. But first, be honest. On a scale from one to ten, with ten being the worst you’ve ever been mentally, where are you at?”

Damn. James was not playing this morning. That part of Clint’s brain that really, really liked the bossiness practically jumped up and down to answer. He’d sworn long ago to ignore that voice, so he instead took a moment to consider the question like the fully functioning, grown ass adult he was. ‘Six. Or so.’

James stared for a moment. “Six? You sure?”

Clint clenched his jaw. ‘Yes!’

James slipped a hand around to cup his neck, his thumb rubbing at the pulse point. Clint couldn’t stop his body’s reaction, no matter how much he wanted to. If only to prove he wasn’t- NO! He shoved the thought away, not letting old memories ruin what he had with James. He let himself practically melt against James’ chest. This wasn’t like that. It mattered. James loved him. The good type, not the bad. He just had to remember that. Only James touched his neck this way.

“I wasn’t accusing you of lying, baby.”

Clint closed his eyes at the endearment. His stupid breakdown opened more than a few cracks and he wasn’t able to shove all the bad things back in. He struggled to shove the worst away. He couldn’t deal with them right now. ‘Love you.’ It was a reassurance, a thin hope that James wouldn’t run screaming when all the bad things spilled out and Clint showed just how fucked up he truly was.

“I love you. I said I wouldn’t go anywhere. No matter what. I meant it. You’ve fought enough of your demons for now, I think. Why don’t we go down and I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes?”

Clint’s mood brightened instantly. He scrambled off of James and rolled off the bed. If he immediately reached out for James the moment they were no longer touching, he wasn’t going to judge himself for it. 

Not today. 

—**—

James was a fair cook. He’d had to be or else starve over the years. He’d not bothered much in the city because he’d not needed to. Chocolate chip pancakes were a comfort food, albeit a simple one. The light in Clint’s eyes soothed him, smoothing out his fears that he’d pushed too much and too soon. Clint moved around him, grabbing plates and forks, but not once completely breaking contact with him. 

Lucky wound through their legs, checking on them, James guessed. Also begging for pets. Once he seemed satisfied, the dog went right back over to his bed and watched them. 

“Lucky thinks he’s the parent,” James teased. “Should we be offended?”

Clint chuckled, sidling up at James back and watching him cook. “Nah, too much work.” 

“The tea help or did the healing finally kick in?” He kept his tone light, not truly wanting to speculate as to why something like a sore throat would unsettle Clint so much. As far as he understood, Clint’s better than average healing had existed since birth. No matter what anyone else thought, James knew enough to know the heightened senses had probably stemmed from his hearing loss so young. Clint had just pushed them to world class athlete level because he was a badass.

Clint crinkled his nose. “Tea with honey is for little old ladies and sick people. It was gross.”

James’ lips twitched. “So it helped then?”

Clint just pouted.

James flipped the first dozen bite sized pancakes on to a plate and held it out for the blond to take. “Go on. Eat. The coffee should be done.”

Clint eyed the table across the room and then the stool on the other side of the wide counter that held the cooktop and frowned. “I can wait until yours are done too.”

James took the plate back and piled it high with pancakes as they finished cooking. “Want to get the coffee?” 

Clint did as he asked and they made their way over to the table. He didn’t break the silence, it was peaceful. Especially now that Clint seemed a bit steadier. James waited until the pancakes were gone and Clint was on his fifth cup of coffee to nudge him gently. 

“So. You want to stay here for a while?”

Clint shrugged, staring at his coffee cup, but he shifted a bit closer, their legs pressed against one another completely now rather than the light contact before. “It feels-” he paused, blushing. “Safe?”

“Safe is a good thing. It was my priority setting this place up.” 

Clint sighed heavily. “Feels stupid. I’m a grown ass adult. An assassin and spy. One of the Avengers, for fucks sake. I’m not a child.”

James thought he understood where Clint was coming from. That didn't mean he wasn't frustrated. Whatever or whoever had damaged Clint had done a bang up job of it. He wanted to hunt them down and kill them for that. There was no map for him to follow, no instructions, no way to know if he was doing the right thing or the wrong one. He went with his gut instinct. It was all he had to go on. 

“Then I’m stupid too. I always figured I’d seen way too much to discount being safe or making safe spaces. I’ve had far too few of them in my life.” He paused, hoping he wasn’t going too far. “Isn’t that what we do? Make it safe for others? Why should we risk our lives to make everyone else safe and not have any safety ourselves?”

Clint pushed away from the table and shot to his feet, running his hands through his hair. “This isn’t right! It's not normal! Why the fuck am I this way?”

It hurt, the panicked feeling in his chest. Had he pushed too fast? Gone too far? “Clint?”

“What?!” 

Clint had a wild look in his eyes James had never seen before. He didn’t know what it meant. 

Clint held out his hands. His shaking hands. He stared as if he’d never seen his own hands before. “I’m a fucking archer and assassin! I can’t do my damn job like this!”

James slowly got to his feet and held out his hand. This was the first time they’d not been touching since they’d arrived. He didn’t like it one bit. “Let me help?”

Clint’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide and panicked. That James thought he could deal with that. Panic he could handle. He hoped.

“You shouldn’t have to! I can’t have you holding my fucking hand for the rest of my life! Why the fuck would you want to do that?!”

James grinned fiercely. Fine, they’d scream this out. Talking wasn’t working and Clint clearly needed to get a few things off his chest. He only hoped it worked as he thought it would and didn’t break their relationship. He wasn't sure he could handle that. No! What they had was stronger than that. He just needed to remember that and not let himself fuck up by panicking.

“Why should you have to help me through fucking nightmares?” He snapped, meeting fire with fire. “Why did you have to take time out of your life to undress me like a fucking doll because of a god damn motherfucking chair?”

“I should be able to fucking sleep like a fucking adult! Without fucking help!”

“So should I! But, I can’t because some fuckwits decided to torture me and experiment on me and make me onto a fucking monster! It wasn’t my fucking fault and yet I deal with it every fucking day!”

“You aren’t a fucking monster! Stop saying that shit!”

James wondered if being hopeful that this wasn’t going to end badly made him an idiot. “I am a fucking monster! Or did you fucking forget what I did for all those years?”

Clint stomped over, shoving him. “Stop saying that! You don’t get to hold it against yourself if they did it to you!”

James held his ground. He didn't want to yell any longer. He wanted to hold the man he loved, help him through what was traumatising him. His tone was firm and brokered no argument. “Then neither do you.” 

Clint fisted his hands in James’ shirt. He shook for a minute or two before he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper, “You don’t know that.”

James laid his hands over Clint’s. “I know that I love you. I don’t say it often enough, but it’s there. I meant it when I said no matter what.”

“Same goes, the loving you thing I mean.” Clint shook his head as if trying to deny the rest. “You can’t know that.”

“I do.” He was firm on that. “You can tell me anything, ya know. I will never, ever think less of you or whatever it is you think I’ll do.”

“You’ll see just how fucked up I am.”

James nearly laughed, but held it back in fear of offending Clint when things were still so shaky. “Oh please, I know how fucked up you are. You know how fucked up I am. It’s our thing.”

“I did bad, bad things.”

He took a risk, wrapping his arms around the blond and tugging him closer. Clint allowed it, dropping his head to James’ shoulder. He was still shaking and James’ heart broke a little. “Why don’t we go rest a bit, hmmm? You can tell me later. Right now I just want to hold you.”

“Don’t let go.” 

“No matter what.” It was a promise. Probably the most important one he’d ever made.

__**__

Clint was ashamed of himself. 

He couldn’t sleep. Not after raging like a maniac in the kitchen. He was so broken. How the hell did James put up with him? Instead of running away from the idiot like anyone else would have, he’d packed them up and brought them to a place that he suspected was better protected than S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and the White House combined. He’d been amazing. Far better than an uneducated foster kid from Iowa deserved. A foster kid that had done so many bad things in order to survive. 

“You’re thinking too loudly.”

James had insisted he take his aids out and give his poor ears a break. Then he’d cuddled close enough that Clint could see him if needed. Damn, the man was more than amazing. Too amazing. But, James handed him his aids back now. Ugh. Fine. Clint put them in and turned them on, moving as little as possible doing so.

“Clint.”

The tone was a mild warning and he huffed. “I didn’t do anything?”

“You need rest.”

“Hmf. You need rest.”

He could almost feel James’ eye roll. “What is bothering you?” 

Clint sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not when he already felt bad. Memories crept to the surface and pushed through the cracks. Memories of being told what a bad boy he was and how he’d be punished. He tried to shut them off, shut them down... anything! Turning, he curled closer to James. “They won’t go away.”

“What won’t?”

He squeezed his eyes closed like a child and hated himself a little bit for it. “Memories. I thought I made them go away. They were supposed to go away. I was good. I swear.”

“You are good, baby.”

“No, bad. So bad.”

James held him tightly, tight enough that Clint was able to start putting the memories back in their box. His mouth pressed against Clint’s ear, he murmured nonsense. The words weren’t important, not right now, it was the tone, the sense of safety. He didn’t know how long it took for James to soothe him enough to lock the box of memories down.

He was safe, he kept repeating over and over in his head until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

\--**--

James held him, almost too tightly. He hated the picture that was forming, all the bits and pieces Clint was giving him were not painting a pleasant picture. Not at all. He hoped and wished that he was wrong, but feared it was probably worse than he was imagining. Worried that he was hurting rather than helping, he loosened his hold. 

Clint almost immediately screamed and started thrashing around. He sounded like a terrified child. “No! No! I was a good boy, I was!”

James tightened his hold again, swearing he could hear bones creaking. Clint’s screams stopped abruptly and he sighed with relief. He was awake and alert in case the nightmare came back, but it didn’t. Not for almost two hours. Not daring to be relieved yet, James slowly loosened his hold again. This time there were no more childlike pleadings. 

He made a silent vow right then and there as he carefully took out Clint’s hearing aids and turned them off. He would not be pushing, on any subject. Not now. Not anytime soon. If it took ten years for Clint to be ready to talk, that was fucking fine and dandy with him. He loved the man too much to see him suffer like this. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting better, but still a long way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags!!!

It was the first week of December and it had snowed for a day and a half. It had finally stopped sometime before dawn. Clint braced his hip on the counter and looked out the kitchen windows, sipping his coffee. He could see James and Lucky trudging through the snow, heading back towards the house and he smiled. 

He was doing better. James being outside and him inside was proof of that. After the first twenty four hours that had included two breakdowns and his temper tantrum... well, he’d tried to be better. To do better. 

He’d even shared memories. Like his first foster mother, Miss Jones. That kindly older woman who’d taken him and Barney in and treated them so well. How Barney hated it, hated her, and ran away. The second foster home, they’d both run from; though Clint had not shared why. They’d stumbled across the circus and joined up, his skills with archery only improving the older he got. 

He’d talked about his days as an unknown vigilante trying to be a hero. They’d both laughed a bit over some of his antics. He’d skimmed things there too, he just wasn’t ready to face them. 

James had shared things too, like what it was like growing up an army brat. How he’d been treated like every other soldier despite his young age. The War. His moments of clarity during those years as the Winter Soldier. How he, most days, understood that what he did during the mind control was not his fault. 

So many memories shared. It had helped both of them. 

He was slowly learning to accept and celebrate the baby steps. 

Like not immediately panicking like he did the first time James left to grab groceries in one of the nearby towns. That had been embarrassing, his mad rush for the safe room and then berating himself for it. James had been reluctant to go, but they couldn’t go without groceries so Clint had sent him on his way and dealt with his idiotic and childish reaction. He’d forced himself out of the safe room and then the control room. He’d explored, finding two secret passages and a disused dumbwaiter. By the time James had returned, he’d rigged the dumbwaiter like a mini elevator for Lucky, complete with a paw activated control panel. James had held him close the minute he’d returned and it was then that Clint realized he wasn’t the only one of them that needed the touch, the reassurance. It had helped him, a lot actually. James had been delighted with the Lucky-size elevator and had even gone to get one of the spare blankets to put inside it. Lucky had taken to napping there, the dumbwaiter stopped on whatever floor they were on at the time. 

His nightmares were more frequent and it had taken a lot of convincing, but he had accepted that James didn’t give a fuck how many nightmares he had, only that he hated how much they hurt him. James was teaching him that there were good sorts of love, ones that didn’t have to hurt you. Clint had felt stupid when he’d figured it out. He’d thought he’d understood it. It had always been clear in his mind that what he and James had was good. It was just that he’d not known he needed to take that next step or that it had even existed. 

He set his cup on the counter and headed for the mud room. The stack of towels was waiting where he’d set it earlier when James had decided he wanted to walk. He’d not pressed Clint to go with him, but the offer to do so was there. When he was ready. Lucky always went along. Lucky would need a rub down now and probably a bath later. That was one wrestling match Clint never looked forward to. Lucky liked baths about as much as Clint liked doctors and hospitals.

He looked up as the door opened and smiled widely. He was slowly accepting that deep need to know that James was close. It wasn’t something he’d understood that James needed too or that it hurt the man Clint never wanted to hurt when he shied away from accepting the need. So, he was learning to not be such an idiot. He grabbed two towels and squatted down in front of the soaking wet dog. 

“Looks like you two had fun. The coffee is ready if you need to warm up. I’ll dry this guy off.”

James hung his coat on a hook and made quick work of the rest of his outerwear. The knit cap was tossed on a drying rack and he crouched down, a quick scan of Clint's face broadening his smile. 

Clint tried not to blush. “Go on, warm up.”

James wrapped his hand around Clint’s neck and kissed him thoroughly. “There, now I’m warmed up. You hungry, baby?”

Clint continued drying off the dog, accepting the endearment with more grace than he had in the past. He pouted a bit though, knowing it would put a look in James’ eyes that both of them liked but didn’t discuss. Not yet. “I can help.” 

James’ brows shot up. “Uh huh. Sure.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “I can help with the little things. Jeez, aren’t you the one that has been trying to teach me how to cook basic things?”

James stood, grinning. “You’re adorable. I like cooking, you don’t.”

Clint huffed, trying to not laugh aloud. He didn’t like cooking, never had. But, it was fun to help James in the kitchen. Distracting too. Which, he could admit, was probably the reason for James’ reluctance.

“Baby, if I have to remind you to shred the cheese not your hands, I think it is safe to say that cooking is not one of your billion and one talents.”

Clint stood, tossing the towels in the washer. He was blushing, he knew he was. “Damnit, you will never let that one go, will you? It was once and in my defense, you did walk in shirtless!”

“Nah, it’s much more fun this way.” James chuckled. “Why did I need to remove my shirt, do you remember that part?”

Clint pouted. “That was Lucky’s fault, not mine.”

James turned and walked into the kitchen, Lucky on his heels. He called over his shoulder, “Sure it was, blame the poor innocent dog.”

Clint huffed out a laugh and got the washer going. He had no problems with this particular chore. He even knew not to put red and white things together. Smiling, he joined James in the kitchen and only pouted slightly when he was told to sit on the stool and watch. He liked watching James and cuddling him. He also knew he needed to try and explain some things, but not yet. He couldn’t face it all. 

—**—

James bolted upright, the clock on the tablet telling him it was one in the morning. He turned, reaching out for Clint automatically. But, the words mixed with the screams sank in and he, for the first time, hesitated. It was probably a good thing he’d forgotten to remind Clint to take his aids out.

“I’m a good boy. I am. Barney is bad, not me! Don’t make him go away! I’ll be your good boy.”

James couldn’t stop himself from cradling Clint close. It took all he had not to shake him awake and demand to know how he was pleading with in his nightmare. So he could hunt the fucker down and kill him. Even if that meant universe hopping one more time.

Clint, tears streaming down his face, collapsed against him. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Shh, baby, shhh,” James whispered, holding the back of Clint’s neck firmly, pressing his wet face into his own neck. It was one thing that seemed to help, no matter how horrific the nightmare. 

Clint shook, crying silently and James was just glad that the screams and pleadings had stopped. When he finally spoke, his voice was that same childlike tone of the nightmare. “I was so bad.”

It was a whispered admission of guilt. One James wasn’t sure he understood. But, he was going to damn well try. To help Clint. “How do you think you were bad, baby?”

“Good boys don’t do things that feel gross and wrong.”

Oh, so this was what complete and utter rage felt like. Good to know. Yeah, someone needed to die a slow and painful death. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Clint tensed, but James kept one hand at his neck and the other rubbed up and down his spine. “You can tell me, baby. I won’t go away.”

“He said that Barney was a bad, bad boy but I was good.”

“Who did?” He needed a name, he could hack the records for it, but he knew Clint needed to be the one to tell him. That it would be a betrayal to go looking without permission. 

“Mr Jackson. He said- ” his voice cracked. “He said that I had to be his good boy. It would be our secret. If I didn’t, he’d make sure Barney was sent away.”

James had figured out that much. He hated to push, to make Clint say it. Ignoring it wasn’t working. Maybe this would purge things like his own breakdown had. “He was a monster, baby.”

“I was too.”

“Oh, baby, no.”

“I did it. He showed me how good boys behaved.”

“Okay, you did what the monster wanted to protect yourself and your big brother. That doesn’t make you a monster.”

Clint broke down, sobbing again and James held him. Waiting him out. He didn’t want to know details, but details might be the key to helping. Clint finally started talking again. “You’ll hate me.”

“I will not,” he whispered fiercely. He pressed a kiss on Clint’s head. “Even if you walked away from me, I wouldn’t hate you. My heart would break, but I wouldn’t hate you.”

“I hated being ordered to open my mouth wide and flatten my tongue like a good boy. I hated it. So, why did I do it? It was big, filling my mouth but I didn’t complain. I was being good, no matter what.”

“Baby, how old were you?”

“Thirteen, well almost.”

“He was the worst sort of predator. He was the monster. It should not have been something forced on you. Am I being clear?”

“He trained me to do it and I did.”

Now the blond just sounded stubborn. That was better. “Baby, you were just old enough to start deciding what you liked and didn’t like. If he’d left you alone, you would have figured out on your own soon enough.”

Clint managed a snicker sort of noise. “I’d already figured out by age six that women were pretty but men were prettier. Only made the mistake of mentioning it once where my father could hear. He beat me senseless for it too.”

“We can discuss that monster later.” His tone was one that he knew Clint would listen to. One he was not going to stop using just because some fucking pedophile fucker had known Clint was an easier mark than his brother. “Right now, I want to make sure you know that I don’t think less of you just because you were forced to do things by a monstrous bastard that needs to die slowly.”

“He’s dead. Electrical fire not long after I left the circus. Sorry not sorry about it.”

“Did it help?”

Clint sounded surprised. “Killing him and his bitch wife that knew and ignored it? Yeah, for a while. Are you just telling me what you think I need to hear?”

James almost moved to turn on the lamp, just so he could look Clint in the eyes and yet make himself clear without worry of being heard. But, that would mean moving and he wasn’t sure either of them could handle less contact at the moment. “No. When have I ever lied to you? Just to be clear that would be never.”

“But what about- ”

“We are miles from anyone, locked behind security that was created by probably the smartest person in this world, and I am not going to judge.”

“What about not being sure I ever want sex? I didn‘t think I did before the bad stuff.”

James felt guilty about being happy that Clint was half asleep. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle finding out any more. Not that he would judge or think less of the blond currently drifting off to sleep draped across him like a blanket. It was because he was finding it difficult to hear how many times the so-called adults had failed Clint as a child. He wouldn’t fail the adult Clint that he adored endlessly. That would mean listening and doing whatever was needed to help him understand that sex wasn’t the end all, be all. For fucks sake. It would be worth it to go at Clint’s pace and make sure he understood that if they never had sex, in any way, James would be fucking happy just to have Clint in his life. He felt honored that Clint trusted him enough to kiss and cuddle.

He risked removing Clint’s aids, hoping and praying the nightmares were done for the night.

—**—

Clint warily watched James over to his coffee cup. He’d been mentally kicking himself since he woke up and remembered what he’d admitted in the middle of the night. He loved James and trusted him completely. That didn’t mean he wasn’t scared that it would be too much. This was why he didn’t do well at relationships, with men or women. He had never trusted anyone enough to tell all those secrets to. Not even Nat. She knew a little, but nowhere near all of it.

James looked up from the tablet that Clint presumed he was checking the news on and lifted one brow. “I’m not going to bite. Well, unless you ask nicely.”

Clint snickered. “Might shock you one of these days.”

James looked delighted at the prospect. Then he tipped his head, his eyes narrowing. “You’re all the way over there. Why? I can say that I’m not going anywhere or judging you as many times as you need, baby.”

Clint pouted. “Why that one?”

“You don’t like it?”

He moved across the kitchen, not happy that he’d made James sound doubtful. “No. I do. Probably too much. But, why that one?”

James slid his chair back and pulled Clint into his lap. “This good?”

“Yeah. I hate that you feel like you have to ask.”

James sighed. “Consent is a thing. I will probably always ask, just because I don’t ever want to do anything you don’t want.” A light kiss. “I don’t know why that one. It just seemed right.”

Clint settled back, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder. “It gets my back up, makes me want to be a bratty asshole. Sometimes at least.”

James’ laughter made him deep down happy. “I like it when you’re a brat.”

Clint didn’t know what to make of that. On one hand, he probably should object. On the other hand, it was comforting to know. He went for teasing, hoping it was okay. “You may regret that. I can be very, very bratty when I’m in a mood.”

James shrugged. “Like I didn’t know that already.” He nodded towards the tablet. “You don’t have to even look at that now, but it’s there when you’re ready.”

He used his cup to push the tablet filled with information he didn’t want right now away, just enough to get the point across. It was one thing to discuss stuff he really wished could be zapped from his brain in the darkness and safety of their bedroom. It was a whole other story in the brightness of daytime and in the kitchen. 

Another sigh. 

Clint was saved from the conversation when his phone rang. He had tossed it on the table earlier and reached for it, happy to stay right where he was. He grinned and answered. “Hey, little witch, you're on speaker.”

“Hey, Wanda,” James added. “Want me to make myself scarce?”

“No. In fact, can I call back and see you? Both of you?”

They shared a worried look. Wanda called regularly, but usually she sounded upbeat. But, today she just sounded almost defeated. Worried too. 

“Of course you can. We told you you could call anytime, little witch.”

“I wasn't sure if I would be catching you at a bad time and didn’t want to see anything I shouldn't.”

James snorted. “Does everyone think we run around naked all the time, or what?”

Wanda made a playful puking noise. “We don’t want to know! I’ll call right back.”

Clint settled back against James’ chest. Not just because it felt right, but he was hoping that he could lift Wanda’s mood by getting her to tease them a bit more. It was much easier to worry over Wanda than think about last night or what was sitting right there on the tablet waiting for him to read. What if it told him he was utterly broken?

He almost desperately answered her video call. She looked tired, complete with dark circles under her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She tried smiling, but it was wobbly. “I’m scared.”

Both he and James sat upright. “What scared you? How can we help?”

“Do we need to visit?” James added in his calm, soothing way. “We can be there tonight if you need us.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. “See. That is why I called. No no, you two stay where you are. It’s just … Pietro is supposed to wake up today.”

“Is that what scared you?” Clint asked, hating the feeling that they weren’t really being there for her like they should be. Damn it, he needed to get his shit together so he could take care of all of his people. He was pretty much useless this way.

“Yeah. What if he’s mad at me?”

James shook his head. “He won’t be. Why would he be?”

“We all thought he was dead,” Clint reminded her gently. “I still don’t know how that bastard managed it.”

“See! What if he isn't the same Pietro?” 

“I was the same me. He’ll just need time to remember that,” James sighed, sliding an arm around Clint’s waist. “We can be there tonight.”

She shook her head, swiping at the tears. “You two need time to yourselves. I promise, I’ll call anytime I need to talk to you. No need for you to travel all the way here because I am being dumb.”

Clint glared. “I told you a million times. You need me and I’m there.”

“Same,” James added wryly. “Just so everyone is clear on that.”

She glared back. “You two are the most overprotective-” she huffed. “I adore you both, but all I needed was to vent. Shuri might just throttle me, best friend or not, if I freak out one more time in front of her.”

Clint wasn’t sure what to say to that. “You’re sure?”

She giggled. “Yes, dads. I’m fine. I’m just freaking out. Apparently, it's a teenage thing.”

James snickered. “If you say so. It will be fine. Trust Shuri. Okay?”

“I do.” She sighed. “If I need you here, I will say so. I swear.” 

“All right,” he said doubtfully. 

“You’re looking better.” She smiled brightly. “Whatever you two are doing and no, I still don’t want details, it's working.”

“Thanks, I think?”

James laughed. “It’s a good thing.”

“Him looking better or me not wanting details?” Wanda giggled. “I’m going to hang up now. You two are doing that adorable thing again and I don’t want to see what happens next.”

Clint was still laughing when she ended the call. James kissed the back of his neck. “She’s fine, no need to worry. If she needs us, she’ll call and demand we get there ASAP.”

“Good point. Wanna watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail again?”

“On mute so you can recite all the lines?”

“Of course.” 

“I’ll even make popcorn.”

Clint kissed him. To his way of thinking they were perfectly imperfect together. He needed to get his shit together so that they could live that life; without his past and the damages that came with it ruining everything.

\--**--

James braced for nightmares or a breakdown, but none came. In fact, Clint slept better over the next three days than he had since they’d been together. He even remembered to take his aids out and give his ears a break, without prompting. The morning of day four, he found Clint already curled up on the sofa with the dog and the stuffed penguin when he got to the main floor. He’d been asleep when James had showered, planning on making breakfast before Clint awoke. He’d even left the bathroom via the hallway door so as not to disturb his sleep. Before he said anything, he noticed that it was his tablet Clint was studying intently. Not about to question it, he headed for the kitchen and started making the food. Just a quick pass by to kiss the still sleep rumpled blond. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Clint with his tablet over the last couple of days, but he’d not mentioned it because he’d not wanted to cause upset and possibly stop the progress.

“Your ass looks amazing in those jeans.”

Comfort food, he decided, still smiling over the daily appreciation of his ass, since what Clint was reading was bound to shatter the man’s calm. He set about making silver dollar pancakes, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Clint’s head shot up once the bacon began cooking, grinning and his eyes filled with glee. 

“Oh, you’re going all out this morning.”

“Maybe we can bundle up and take Lucky for a walk after?”

Clint unwound himself from the blanket then made his way over, coffee cup in one hand and tablet in the other. “I think so.”

James nearly dropped the spatula. Clint hadn’t gone further than the garage, and only via the breezeway, since they’d arrived. He’d made the offer out of habit, not expecting the quick agreement. Not that he was upset by it, just surprised. 

“Don’t look so shocked,” Clint teased, setting the tablet down on the counter. “I didn’t say I’d handle it well, just that going outside sounds good. Hiding myself inside isn’t helping anything.”

James blinked, making the food by rote at this point. “How many of those articles did you read?”

Clint blushed, shrugging. He busied himself refilling his cup and getting James’ out and filling it too. He set it down next to the cooktop. “Umm, I’d say 75% or so. Some I couldn’t, they just sounded dumb. I saw you watching me the last couple of days. Thank you for the space. Anyway, I like the writing things down and burning them method, though blowing them up sounds more fun.”

“Of course you do. I’ve been meaning to make a fire pit anyway.” James sipped the coffee. He smiled in reply to the thanks, but glossed over it. It hadn’t been necessary. He’d only been helping the man he loved in whatever way he could. “What else? If you want to share.”

Clint leaned in and kissed him lightly. He moved around to the nearest stool and did his sprawling thing. “You say fire pit and I say outdoor pizza oven.” He winked. “I’m doing okay at the sharing thing and asking for help. ‘Least with you. Do I get a prize for that?”

“Yes, bacon.” 

Clint huffed. “I was thinking about cake. Yeah, cake sounds about right.”

“Oh really? What sort of cake am I to be creating then? You sure you trust me not to fuck it up?” James tried not to laugh at the pout. Really he did. Too bad he didn’t manage it.

“Buy it if you want. I just want cake now.”

James laughed even harder. He finally calmed himself down. “Have I said how adorable you are yet today?”

“Adorable enough for cake?”

Oh dear god. Clint was leaning on the counter, his chin propped up on his hands looking all happy and hopeful. The man’s grin was fucking lethal. James pointed the spatula at him. “Don’t give me that look. After we eat, I’ll call the nearest bakery and see if they have any purple cupcakes. Close enough?”

“I love you.” 

James plated the food, sliding a plate across the counter. “Because I feed you and source purple cupcakes too?”

“Well, yes, but not just that.” His eyes shot wide. “Oh, it was you!”

“What was?” Ha! Had he finally figured it out?

“That’s what you were doing on your cell on the quinjet to Boston!”

James grinned. “Finally puzzled that one out, did you?”

“It was all you, wasn’t it? The adorable penguin, the hoodie and ball for Lucky…”

James rolled his eyes, though he wasn't truly irritated. He was thrilled that even months later, his little gifts still made Clint this happy. “I was trying to woo you.”

Clint grinned. “Part of me wants to say gifts aren’t necessary or I did nothing to deserve them. But,” he added hastily at James’ scowl, “I won’t. I will say the gift of seeing your ass in those tac pants everyday was all I ever figured I would get.”

“I must point out that it isn’t just my ass that looks fucking amazing in tac pants.”

Clint’s delighted laughter stuck with him all day. Even seeing Clint outside, throwing snowballs and tackling him in the snow to make snow angels only added to the lightness in his heart, it didn’t overshadow the sound of Clint truly starting to heal. There wasn’t anything that James wouldn’t do to help that along. After all, truly they were healing one another as they made their way through this mad world together.

\--**--


	3. Give you all my demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holidays are discussed and traumas faced.

“We need decorations.”

James looked up from the knife he was sharpening. He blinked. “Do what now?”

“Nat reminded me earlier when she called. Christmas is next week. It wasn't really a thing for me growing up, but I bet it was for you. So. Decorations.”

He set the knife on the workbench and studied the man who had decided today was a great day to try out his newest ideas on a boomerang arrow. Why a boomerang? Because, boomerangs. Apparently they were to be respected? He’d nearly facepalmed but ended up laughing instead. And offering to help. “That means going into town…”

“The one with the bakery?”

“Yes, sure? What sort of decorations were you thinking?”

Clint looked adorably confused. “Fuck if I know. Like I said, holidays and birthdays weren’t a thing growing up. But, Nat did that ‘grumpy, if I was there I would smack you upside the head’ face she does when we’re not doing something she thinks we should.”

James’ eyes narrowed. “What do you mean birthdays weren’t a thing?”

“Before good ole dad killed himself and my mom in a car crash because he was a drunk and an abusive fuckwit, we were lucky if we got a mild beating on our birthdays so…” He shrugged. “Not a thing.”

“When is it? Your birthday.”

“Mid-June? The, uh, 18th. I stopped thinking about it a long time ago, James. When is yours?”

“May 9th. I haven’t bothered celebrating since I missed a half century of them and all.”

Clint set aside the arrow and looked very determined. “We should make a list.”

James didn’t know if he should be amused or concerned, which was a regular thing where Clint was concerned. Usually he ended up amused. “Okay. Why?”

“Shit we didn't get to do before that we want to do now.” He blushed. “All those articles and books I’ve been reading are big on the whole ‘celebrate the good things’ idea. We don’t have to…”

James was at his side and hugging him in the blink of an eye. “I’m not sure what to do for Christmas. Or birthdays. Or whatevers. You’re right though, we should make a list. Why don’t we head back in and do that now? If we do, we can head to town and maybe, just maybe get a pizza or two to bring back. I already have stew going, but we both know you don’t mind cold pizza.”

Clint snickered. “Can we get purple decorations?”

“Blue too?” He had to put his foot down somewhere, right? Adding his favorite color to Clint’s decorating plans had to be some sort of not totally giving in, didn’t it?

“Mmhmm, both our favorites. I like it.” He pulled back just enough to look James in the eyes. “How big is this town? Will people recognize us? Can I take my guns and knives?”

“Good sized, which is what we need to even attempt to find decorations this close to Christmas.” A gentle kiss, a reassurance. “Don’t wear official merch and it will be fine. No visible weapons, but otherwise sure. Everyone will be too busy worrying about last minute shopping that they won’t even notice us.”

“It’s stupid, isn’t it? I used to wander NYC alone in the middle of the night. Ugh. I hate this.”

His hand slid around and gripped Clint’s neck, his thumb rubbing over his pulse point. “No negative self talk, Clinton Francis.”

“Ouch, okay okay. I have suffered more than one major trauma and should give myself a break.” A heavy sigh. “I’ll be back kicking ass and taking names soon enough. Taking time to mend the cracked and dented parts of me does not make me less of a badass.”

James just shook his head. “See, I knew you could repeat things back word for word. Who was the wise, wise man that told you that, hmmm?”

“Fishing for compliments?” Clint pouted. 

James kissed the pout away, murmuring, “Nah, you already told me how spectacular my ass looked in these jeans, so I’m good.”

Clint laughed. “Okay, let me up. We’ll go to town and I’ll not lose my shit.”

James pulled him to his feet. “Eh, if you do, I’ll be right there.”

“I know you will.”

James kissed him again. After all, Clint wasn’t the only one reading up on dealing with trauma. It was just that his way of rewarding good behavior was with kisses and cuddles. It worked for both of them.

\--**--

Clint sat back, feeding Lucky the last slice of his pizza and grinned. They’d not gone overboard and had decided that presents weren’t a necessity this year, at least not for each other. They had, however, bought and had shipped gifts for Nat, Wanda, Shuri, and Pietro. 

Pietro had joined in on two of Wanda’s last three calls. He seemed like a nice kid. Reserved, but according to Wanda during the third call that was new for him. During the first call, he’d been not quite hostile but almost. Until Wanda reminded him that Clint had protected her and not treated her like some dangerous thing that needed to be neutralized. The second call, he’d been more cautiously hopeful. James being his usual calm, funny self had settled the young man. Clint had gone with his tried and true humor, joking that the colors Wanda had chosen for her hair made sense now. Wanda had giggled and said she’d wanted a physical reminder of him. They hoped that Wanda’s comment about him still loving 80’s rock was on point and that their gifts in that theme would be welcome. Both of them wanted, hoped, that he would one day feel as safe with them as Wanda did.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Clint reached out and tugged James to get him to sit down with him. “Enjoy the fire with me.”

James grinned that grin that never failed to make Clint melt a bit, settling in. “It’s not a pizza oven, but it might do for those letters you said you wanted to burn.” 

Clint shifted, laying his head on James’ thigh. The hand sifting through his hair a moment later was a comfort that soothed the subtle hint not to put off things that needed dealt with. “Awwww, it’s the mean weather’s fault we couldn’t get supplies for a pizza oven. Dumb winter. Dumb snow.”

Light laughter was all jumbled with, “You can plan something more than the basic one you found the plans for online this way.” 

Clint curled his arm around the thigh he was using as a pillow. “You should get your fire pit too.” His arm tightened and he blew out a shaky breath. “You should read them before I burn them.”

He could feel James' tension and then gradual relaxation. The hand in his hair never stopped its soothing motion though, so Clint thought he’d not said anything wrong. “Okay, baby, but only if it’s because you want me to, not because some book said you had to.”

Clint blinked back the stupid tears that seemed to pop up with annoying regularity these days. Sometimes the (and yes he knew he was being a shit, thank you very much) stupid, yet effective, things he was trying made him be all emotional and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Crying was for babies. Wasn’t it? Some emotions were good, excellent even. He wasn’t a total idiot. “I love you.”

“Same, baby, same. But that doesn’t answer what I asked.”

“Ugh. It’s the first one.” Feeling like he’d been all emotionally adult enough for the moment, Clint tried for distraction. Since they’d not really had a lot of so-called traditions they were hung up on, they’d picked things to decorate with that they’d liked or that made one (or both) of them laugh. The result was a mixed bag. “I’m glad you found the Father Frost figurines in that artsy shop.”

“Ded Moroz was one thing I remembered from all those years of brainwashing as a good thing. It seemed like I was able to break their hold three times during winter. Father Frost was a good and bright, hopeful thing to remember. I think,” he teased, “you like that we found that purple one.”

“You found him.” Clint sorta loved it actually. He’d always secretly wanted one but being a grown ass adult and all, had resisted the urge no matter how many times he’d been in countries where the hand carved and painted figurines were common. The fact that James had managed to find not only a purple one, but a purple one with the night sky painted on his robes made him adore the man even more. He’d scoured the store until he’d found a blue one. It had a winter forest scene. The way James’ eyes had lit up when Clint showed it to him had almost meant climbing him like a tree and kissing him right there in the shop. “I liked finding one for you.”

He looked over to the mantle and grinned at the figurines now taking center stage there. The mantle had been bare before, but now was starting to look like home. He knew it was weird to put it that way, but that was how he felt. Not everything they purchased was exactly Christmas-y. 

The shop clerk’s eyes had nearly bugged out as the stack of items they’d asked him to set aside for them grew. Clint had to have the really cool old books that, when you opened them you found that the pages had been cut out and you could hide things in them. James had choked a bit about the destruction of books, but had come around when Clint teased that they were something out of an old whodunit movie. They now lived at one end of the mantle too.

James had countered that with a fat, adorable penguin that the tag said had been handmade and that was made out of all sorts of really soft, textured fabrics. He’d called it a patchwork sibling for the one that lived on their bed. Clint had countered it with a hand knit wolf that had eyes almost the same shade as James’ whiskey brown ones. With as much seriousness as he could muster, he’d said the penguins needed a protector. 

They’d both slipped artist’s cards in their pockets for future use. There’d been these cool twisted, hand blown glass candlesticks that Clint insisted they needed for the table. James had found a hand carved wooden bowl to go with them. 

“We actually shopped,” James murmured, sounding a bit stunned. “Like those ladies that lunch or some shit. In multiple shops.”

Clint laughed with delight, turning so he could look up at him. “No. We shopped like men on a mission, which we were.” He winked. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

James chuckled. “So, how do you explain the massive amount of stuff we ended up with?”

“Oh that was strategic, grab what we needed before they got their claws on any of it. Some of the shoppers were scarier than Nat when annoyed.” He winced, playing up the happy mood. “Shit. I didn’t say that. Nope, never happened.”

James’ brow shot up. “Uh huh, you think she didn’t do that scary shit she does and already knows you said it?”

Clint sat up, slapping his hands on his cheeks looking the picture of shocked, yet horrified. “She’ll show up and kick my ass. You have to protect me from her.”

“Is that before or after she kicks my ass for getting between you?”

He gasped in mock outrage, using the sassiest voice and expression he possibly could muster, “I see how it is, mister. I’m outraged. Outraged, I say!”

James reached for the plate of snickerdoodle cookies Clint had insisted they needed from the bakery and held it out. He was grinning that wicked grin. “Adorable. That’s what you meant to say.”

“Hmf. Nope, pretty sure I meant outraged.” He grabbed the plate of cookies before James could take it away and cradled it to his chest protectively. 

Lips twitching as he tried and failed not to smile, James replied dryly, “I’m fairly certain you ate a week's worth of sugar in town. Maybe I should take those back and hide them. Hmmm?”

“No. Mean James,” he pouted, knowing damn good and well James got a look in his eyes when he did it. He liked that look. A lot. 

“Why don’t you hang the stockings whilst I check the stew? We can decorate the,” he paused, eyeing the metal sculpture that Clint had declared the perfect sort of tree for them rather than killing a real one or fighting with setting up a big fake one, “tree after we eat.”

“The pizza was a snack,” he added, his latest attempt to get Clint to eat just a bit better than before. Clint knew his game and was happy to go along with it. It felt nice having James take care of him that way.

Delighted with him, Clint held the cookies out of reach and leaned in to kiss him. The plate was dropped onto the table behind the couch and any thought of accomplishing anything but getting James all rumpled and glassy eyed was forgotten. Shirtless too. Because hiding that amazing body under clothes was some sort of crime against humanity. 

—**—

James, now shirtless thanks to their interlude on the couch, stirred the stew he’d started in the crock pot earlier in the day. He didn’t mind that Clint liked crappy for him food, he just tried to add variety, especially now that they were out of the big city where takeout wasn’t available constantly.

Clint was darting around the house, also shirtless because he wasn’t a fool. He had managed to hide the cookies whilst Clint did a fair imitation of an over stimulated kid. Not that it wouldn’t take five minutes for them to be found once Clint set his mind to it. It was a harmless, fun little game they’d taken to playing. 

As the days passed, he found himself feeling happier and more settled. There were things he was sure were going to bite Clint right in his amazing ass one of these days, mainly that packet of documents from his brother that the blond deliberately ignored was sitting in the safe in the cellar. It was just difficult to press him on that. Especially since he had taken to the whole attack the childhood trauma thing like the fucking badass James knew he was despite Clint doubting it about himself. 

James watched him try three different locations for the horribly 70’s kitschy ceramic tabletop sized tree before settling on putting it somewhere in the hallway. Amused, he carved out the center of the bread bowls that he’d picked up at the truly awesome bakery. He’d not missed Clint’s food preferences ran towards carnival foods. From what they’d talked about it had become apparent that, to Clint, the circus represented the only stability during his childhood. So, he was always seeking out things that reminded him of that time. At least the good parts. 

He knew there were things, probably worse than a drunk and abusive father or a pedophile monster of a foster father that hadn’t been faced yet. Or, he amended thinking of the letters, maybe just not shared yet. There was something there, clown related, that had left a circus kid like Clint shying away from even a certain fast food place if it had one of the benches with a statue of their mascot seated on it for ease of picture taking. Well, other than the fucking obvious creeptastic factor all clowns had, in James’ opinion, just by being what they were. 

Setting those thoughts aside for now, he served up the stew. They had both handled the crowds in town better than he’d thought they would. Clint’s only concession to the noise was to turn down his aids and rely on ASL. 

“Foods ready.”

He even scooped out some for Lucky, having deliberately made a small portion of just the beef and gravy to add to his food. He didn’t bother fronting about spoiling the dog endlessly any more. Besides, the actual stew had things in it that the dog should not be eating so it also stopped him from having to keep Clint from feeding Lucky from his own plate. 

Clint appeared, Lucky by his side and with a stack of letters in his hand. He had that wary look in his eyes, but very deliberately set the letters down on one of the higher kitchen shelves and squared his shoulders like a boxer preparing for a fight. “Food and tree. Then, maybe, setting things on fire.”

“Sounds perfect.”

—**—

Clint didn’t allow himself to think of the letters in the kitchen or risk ruining the fun it had been to decorate their tree. James had picked out a sun catcher in the shape of a red-tailed hawk from the glass blower’s section of the artsy shop, saying it was perfect for him. Clint had melted a bit, searching until he found something wolf related that could be used as an ornament for James. They’d even found a cute little dog ornament for Lucky. The rest of the ‘ornaments’ were things they’d picked up in about five different shops on the Main Street of the town. Some had been from stalls at the indoor market too. There were tiny handmade books and bobbles and even a hand painted, glittery star for the top. The tree had amused Clint and reminded him of them in a way. It was made of old things, repurposed things that had been tossed aside by their original owners. Clint liked the security that the piles of money he’d made legitimately as an Avenger and agent had provided. Even more than that, he liked using it to give back or to help those that needed it, like he’d needed when he was younger. Buying from local artists fit the bill nicely. He didn’t keep a single dime of the merch money, having hated the idea in the first place. It went to various charities instead. 

He loaded the dishwasher and set it to run later while James put the leftovers away. His thoughts were racing and he knew he couldn’t put off the letter thing any longer. “Okay. Pyromaniac time.”

James did the thing. The neck thing that soothed and grounded him all at once. He was never going to admit to Sam that all those links he sent had helped, but damn it all, they really had. “Your schedule, baby. Not mine, not some book or article telling you when. Yours.”

He knew he was shaking, but just let it happen. It wasn’t worth the struggle to stop it. It would only get worse anyway. His smile was as shaky as his body was, but he managed it. “It is. Mine, I mean. I’m not going to apologize if I get all hot mess because you’ll give me that frowny face and we don’t need that.”

James’ kiss was a reminder and comfort and all sorts of other things Clint couldn’t process. He leaned on the other man, allowing himself to acknowledge he needed him. He so needed him. So so much. James pulled back before Clint could tap out and god wasn’t that a kick in the ass. The man knew him, knew what he wanted and needed sometimes before he figured it out himself. 

“Better?”

Clint nodded, bracing himself for what was to come. He hoped he wasn’t harming James with all his trauma. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Together, they retrieved the letters and curled up on blankets in front of the fire. The letters had crumpled in his fist and he smoothed them out one by one. He handed over the first one. Best to start out with the easiest; the one to Miss Jones.

James took it and read it, his hand a steadying presence on Clint’s neck. “Did it help? Apologizing even though you weren’t the reason they took you two from her?”

“Yeah. I mean. It wasn’t my fault. I can say that now. Then though, it felt like it was. We got new clothes that actually fit and all the food we wanted. She even managed to find a bow, arrows, and target for the back yard when she heard me saying that I missed it.”

“Says here she got you two into boxing classes. I wish I could meet her to thank her for being so good to you.”

“She was great. Died a few years before all the universe hopping happened.” He ducked his head and blushed. “She had a mysterious benefactor that set her up in a really nice place where she got the best care and even a personal nurse so she didn’t get neglected like so many other elderly people without families are.”

“Baby.”

“I’m over it.” He sighed. “Mostly.”

James handed the letter back and Clint tossed it in the fire. The next two weren’t bad, in the grand scheme. One to his drunk of a father basically calling him a fucking useless piece of trash. James had just agreed and handed it back. Into the fire it went. The next had been to his mother. That one was a bit more complicated.

“You can be angry and sorry at the same time,” James murmured, his thumb not once stopping its soothing rhythm since they’d settled down on the blankets.

“I’m working on it,” he promised, tossing the letter into the fire. He meant it too. “Might as well go for broke.”

James took the last letter, watching him over the top of the paper even as he read it. Then read it again. His expression darkened. “Dead?”

Clint blinked, having expected something other than that. He mentally kicked himself for it immediately after. James had proven over and over that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. “Uh. Yes.”

“How?”

Clint bit the corner of his mouth and shrugged. “No judgements, right?”

“None.”

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling a tad bit embarrassed though he wasn’t sure why. “I may have … well let's call it ... borrowed a car and oops accidentally ran him over when he was stumbling home from a bar one night. Didn’t kill him, just laid him up in the hospital with severe enough injuries he’d never fully heal from. I may have then alerted the local cops that searching his place was a good idea.”

James kissed him lightly. “And?”

Clint rolled his eyes. Huffed. “Fine. When he went to jail for the massive amounts of kiddie porn - ” He sighed. “I checked his place before borrowing the car, none of it was of me before you worry about that. Anyway, somehow. I just have no clue how... well, it’s entirely possible every single inmate and guard found out what he was in for. I didn’t actually have to do anything but hack the system to check the autopsy results to assure myself he was truly dead.”

James surprised the hell out of him, laughing. “Well done, baby, well done.”

Clint took the letter and tossed it in the fire. It actually felt good, like the stuff he’d read had said, to let it go and watch it burn. It helped so damn much. It also helped that James seemed more proud of him than anything. Which was weird, but better than running screaming or kicking him out or any of the other many ways he could have reacted.

“You know,” James said in a musing sort of voice as the letter finished burning. “You knew when you went after them that they were the monsters and that you were a survivor of their actions.”

“Maybe. Still fucked me up. Still fucking me - umm - us, up,” he amended guiltily. 

James had that fierce look on his face again. “One, not fucking us up. Not at all, baby. Two, you have been a badass since you were bitty, Clint Barton. I’ll keep saying it until you believe it. Three, I have an idea. More a request. One you can think about and decide if you think it will help.”

Clint didn’t feel like a badass. He felt like a bruised and bloodied mess. But, he had to get past that. No matter what James said, it felt like he was holding back parts of their relationship. That he wasn’t giving James all the things he wanted and probably needed. So, he’d do this. “What is it?”

“First, I have to say I’m proud of you. You could have hated yourself for being attracted to men and women. But, you didn’t let the monsters ruin that.”

He’d never thought of it that way before. It was just part of who he was, something to hold onto because if his shitty dad hated something it meant it was a good thing. Barney hadn’t judged him for it either. So he shrugged. “Doesn’t mean much if I can’t handle more than kissing and barely touching you, the person I love endlessly, does it?”

“So what? You will, eventually, figure out what you like and don’t like. Then we can have all sorts of fun. I spent a good portion of my life as a human popsicle, so waiting for you to figure out where you are on the liking sex or not isn’t an issue.”

Clint snorted, momentarily distracted. “A Jamesicle?”

“Sure. This one time we can use that word for it.”

The tone warned him that James wasn't going to be so easily distracted. “Okay. So the request?”

“If you aren’t ready to discuss the last letter, that is fine. But, I was thinking that lists and writing stuff down has helped you so far. Make a list, write down the things you know you like but are conflicted about because of those monsters. Maybe even check out the link I sent to your email. It’s for a website. It has all sorts of information about all the things people can like sex-wise. It also has all the things that people don’t like. It’s okay to not like things or just plain not be interested in things. I love you for you, not the future possibility of sex.”

Clint kissed him. It was an excellent plan. He wasn’t sure if he could dare to look at that website without hiding in one of the secret passages, at least at first. But he had to do something. 

—**—


	4. All my pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has made his list and they have a talk. 
> 
> *mind the tags*

“I made the list.”

James was glad he’d been in the process of sitting on the bed. Otherwise, he’d likely have fallen on his ass. It had only been about three weeks since he’d suggested it. Clint had disappeared a few times and he’d known that the secret passages had become a secret, safe space. If it helped, it helped to his way of thinking. He’d known that Clint would talk when he was ready. “You did?”

Clint turned down the lights and closed the curtains. He looked nervous. “Uh, well, started it anyway. I uhh well, hey that site said shaming people for kinks or dislikes was bad and I think I may have mostly convinced myself of that.”

Holy fucking shit. No matter if he made a list or not, Clint would still have serious triggers and James didn’t want to fuck this up. “Do I get to see that list?”

Clint blushed bright red. “Yes. Later. But… ” he almost whispered. “I have to explain some things. When the lights are out and it’s safe.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” He stayed where he was, leaning against the headboard. He watched as the lights were turned off and Clint climbed into bed. He didn’t miss that he’d left his aids in. But, he would be patient. 

Clint about killed him, crawling over the bed and straddling his lap. He whispered, “This okay?”

His voice was rough as he reined in his libido and forced himself to not react, keeping the low almost whispering tone they used most when the lights were out as if sharing secrets. He supposed they were. “Baby, I am never not going to love having you in my lap.”

“I like you calling me baby. I like you taking care of me and making me feel safe. I really, really like when you do that thing where you hold the back of my neck and pet my pulse point. It’s a you thing, an us thing, that I never allowed anyone else to do.”

James decided that the look in Clint's eyes meant he should be doing that thing right now. So he did. “Like this, baby?”

“Uh huh. Makes me all melty.”

The wicked grin delighted him. “Is that so?”

“Yes. But, I don’t react like so many people on that site do.” 

James tried to look stern. “I have a half dressed, gorgeous man that I adore in my lap telling me how he likes when I hold his neck. Yeah, I like that no matter what else you tell me. I’m trying to listen to all your words.”

“Because my words are important to you.”

“Very.” A light squeeze of his neck and Clint focused back on what he’d been saying. 

“So, I’m still working on the separating and accepting things part. But, before you give me that grumpy look, I want you to help me with it.”

James took a moment to force his body back under control. “I don’t want to do anything that would harm you- ”

A finger over his mouth cut him off.

“That is what I need you to help me with. You keep reminding me that we like what we like. I hate rules and authority. I always will and yeah part of that is the shit childhood I had.” He rolled his eyes. “The thing you do... are doing. That thing? It makes me all comfy and pliant and happy to be told what to do. Just by you. No one else.”

James tightened his hold. “Baby, shh, I would never let anyone else close to you like this if you don’t want that. Not whilst you are mine.” He dared a hard, short kiss. “I’m yours too, just to be clear.”

A sigh of relief. “I don’t like being shared. Do. Not. Like. Even if I figure out the liking or not sex thing, sharing was bad.”

“Will never happen,” James assured him, keeping his thoughts here in this moment and not on the reasons for the bold, red underlined, all capital letters addition to the ‘Clint is not having it’ list. “Keep going, baby, if you can.”

“I’m being selfish.”

“No,” he all but demanded, “you are not. Why would you even think that?”

“Because, I will tell you all these things and maybe I never want sex because the stupid trauma kicks in or I just don’t want that. It isn’t fair to you.”

James wanted to scream and rage at all that this wonderful, amazing man had been put through. Now wasn’t the time for that. He didn’t care how hard it made him or if he had to jack off in the shower later. Or just will his hard-on away. The important thing was that Clint was sharing things, important things. “Baby. Need I remind you of my popsicle years, again?”

Clint snickered. “Nope. So, back to the list. I like being a brat. You knew that one though.” A sly smile. “You like that one too.”

“I do, baby, very much.” 

“I don’t think I like sex. Not just because of my shitty childhood. I want that clear. I love cuddling you and kissing you and that stuff. I just don’t know that I will ever be okay with anything more and that isn’t fair to you.” Eyes full of the need for understanding. A plea for support.

“I will say it every damn day, baby. I love you. That love isn’t going to go away if you say you want things to stay like they are now.”

“Maybe someday we can try?”

“We can, if you want to try things. But, on your schedule. I don’t need sex, baby. Flirting was always fun. But flirting with boys had to be secret and it was dangerous. Sex was something that was a maybe someday for me too. I like it, for sure, but I don’t  _ need  _ it.”

Clint pressed against him. “Cuddles and kissing won’t stop, right? I like those. A whole lot.”

James wrapped his free arm around him and held him close. “Like I said, I never say no to cuddling you. Or kissing you.” 

“When he - they - made me a bad boy, I did things that scared me before because I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have you to help me see that the right kind of love meant it wasn’t my fault I had to do those things.”

“I need to say this. For me, for the both of us.” James used the hold on the blond’s neck to shift him back so he could look him in the eyes. “Baby, on a good day, just thinking about you makes me so fucking happy. I never, ever thought someone would love me and I would love someone as much as I do you.”

“Thank you for that. You always seem to have the words I need to hear.” Clint pressed a kiss on his mouth before pulling back. “I love you.”

“Same, baby. Should we try and sleep now?”

Clint pursed his lips and was quiet for a long time. “I think I want to tell you more. But, cuddled under the blankets … is that dumb?”

“No, baby. If it makes you feel safer that way, then it’s fine.”

Less than two minutes later, Clint was curled up, head on his shoulder and he sighed. “That website was a lot. So many things.”

“It was, but I thought maybe it might help.”

“It did. So much. _Maybe someday_ is really okay? Talking about this is okay?”

James kissed his brow. “Of course, baby. How else will we figure out what works for us if we don’t talk about it?”

“Okay. It may take me time to not feel guilty about all of it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel less guilty?”

“You do stuff already. It’s me. Promise.”

James smiled. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep saying it.”

Sleepily, but almost fervently, Clint murmured, “I want you to not have to be so cautious.”

“We will get there, baby. Sleep.”

Clint did as ordered and James laid awake for two hours just to be sure that Clint wouldn't have nightmares. They’d taken some big steps all at once. Clint may not think so, but James knew it. He was so damn proud of Clint. He’d have to find a way to say or show that without getting Clint’s back up about it.

—**—

James watched without making it obvious the next morning. Just to see if Clint was having any residual anxiety after their talk. If James was the sort, he’d be dancing a fucking jig. Clint was bundled up next to him and the dog was running amok through the orchard. Even the brutally cold weather couldn’t dim his mood. Clint had taken a major step forward. He was sure there would be backsliding, because there always was. 

It wasn't even that he thought that either of them were in a great place mentally, but they were getting better. Oddly enough, or maybe not so much considering what he’d read up on before sharing the link to the website with Clint, it helped his healing by being needed. He had to deal with his own shit, alone or with Clint’s help. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be in any shape to help. It was probably codependent and a bad idea, but since when had that mattered? If it worked, it worked. 

Clint bumped him playfully. “Happy thoughts. I hope.”

“Yeah. Definitely. Oh, Sam emailed earlier. Said he moved into our apartment and would happily move back out if we want to come back to the city. He just wanted a visible presence there since those tracksuit morons have come sniffing around again in the last couple of weeks.”

Clint shrugged, looking out over the orchard. “I like it here. It feels like home. A real home.”

They turned and headed back towards the house. Lucky couldn’t stay out in this weather too long, even with his winter coat and booties. He still said it didn’t count as spoiling when the poor boy needed it for the weather. Clint still held firm on it being spoiling. They’d agreed to disagree and instead teased one another daily. 

“It can be. We don’t have to stay here all the time.” He wasn’t pushing, just tossing the idea out there for Clint to mull over. They had at least two dozen safe houses, though none as extensive as this one, throughout the world. They had been okay thus far, but at some point they’d get restless and want to go do dangerous shit that Natalia would grumble and glare at them for doing. 

“I handled going to town.” Clint glanced over, smiling brightly. “Maybe climb some mountains while there’s still plenty of winter left?”

He laughed. “I swear you read my thoughts sometimes. Sam may have also mentioned keeping Lucky for us if needed.”

“We have good friends.” Clint sounded satisfied by that. “Speaking of, how's Steve?”

James typed in the code and opened the door to the mud room. “I swear, he’s trying too hard. He is writing up new Avengers rules. You’re not going to like them.”

“When do I ever like rules?”

James just stared, one brow lifted.

“You know what I meant!” He dropped his boots on the rack and sighed. “I really hope all stupid aliens stay away for a long time. Anyone who would be considered Avengers level problems actually.”

James finished pulling his outerwear off and helped Clint dry off Lucky. “Thanks to those amazing friends of ours, we can pretty much be anywhere quickly.”

Clint wandered off and he could hear the clink of mugs and was happy to see his coffee waiting when he made it into the kitchen. They always set it to brew before their walks. 

“I don’t want to go back to NYC. Not yet.”

“Baby, we don’t have to. Ever if we don’t want to. Steve can fuck right off if he tries adding that to his new rules.”

They took their coffee and the cookies that Clint had ‘discovered’ from the newest hiding spot into the living room. James set his cup on the coffee table and tossed another log on the fire. They didn't need it for heat, they just both liked it.

Clint sprawled on the sofa. “By the way, the cookie jar? Really?”

James grinned. “I thought it would be the last place you’d look.”

“Second actually. I figured you’d run out of places and end up trying it sooner or later.”

James settled in and simply enjoyed the normality of the moment. It was perfectly imperfect.

\--**--

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit shorter, sorry for that!


	5. Don't turn away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was almost a miracle that Clint allowed himself the cuddling and kissing. James was initially surprised that Clint had clawed his way out of the trauma far enough to allow even that. Then he’d mentally kicked himself. Clint was a fucking badass so of fucking course he’d found a way. To his way of thinking, Clint had healed a lot more than he himself had. At least in many ways. 

Clint had flourished over the last couple of weeks. James had tried to make sure their life didn’t solely focus on healing their mental health. They took trips out to the surrounding towns or simply just took the truck out for drives, Lucky perched between them on the bench seat. Others they spent planning an indoor shooting range building at the other end of the orchard where the land met the forest. Sometimes they curled up reading books on their tablets. It hadn’t surprised him in the least that Clint read just about anything he could get his hands on that remotely interested him; from ancient history to apple orchard maintenance and care. 

Some days were lazy ones, just sprawled on the sofa having movie marathons, rock, paper, scissoring for whose turn it was to pick. The times James won, he was beginning to suspect were because when it was his choice inevitably Clint ended up curled up in his lap or on the sofa next to him. 

He readied the coffee, idly noting that Clint was more cuddly than usual today. Clint had slept well and not had nightmares, so James would watch and wait to see if the man would explain or if it would take some nudges. He nearly laughed at the sight of potatoes, bacon, cheese, and eggs being laid out on the counter. Scrambled eggs with cheesy potatoes covered in bacon was one of James’ favorite meals. Whole wheat bakery bread was set out last. Clint prowled over and backed him against the counter, cuddling him and all full of gentle kisses.

“What’s all this, baby? You spoiling me?”

Clint pressed a kiss to his neck. “You had a nightmare, so yeah, today is comfort James day. If I could cook it without ruining it, I would. I can get better at cooking.”

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice a bit rough with all sorts of emotions. All good ones. Okay. So there was guilt too for disturbing his sleep. “I’m sorry.”

An indignant huff. “I don’t get to apologize for my nightmares and so that means you don’t either.”

James forced himself to not roll his eyes. “Fine, I take it back. You don’t have to do all this, baby. I didn’t even realize I had a nightmare.” 

“You don’t usually.”

He did the neck thing and pulled Clint back just enough to look in those gorgeous blue eyes. “You've not been mentioning my nightmares?”

Now the blond just looked stubborn, irritated, and maybe even a bit hurt. James wasn’t sure what was causing the last. He’d been doing his best not to cause any sort of upset whilst Clint was being all badass sorting out things.

“It’s what I do! Or have you forgotten? I take care of my people, James, and you’re the most important of my people.”

“Clin-”

“No! You don’t get to Clint me in that tone. Not right now when I’ve not done anything wrong.” Those gorgeous blue eyes were angry now. Damn it. “Uh no, you don’t get to be grumpy either. So wipe off the grumpy face and listen.”

“You don’t need to take care of me.” His eyes went wide when Clint literally growled.

“I do! I get to take care of you when I want to. You said it was one of the things about me that you fell in love with. Was that a lie?” With each word, the hurt bled out more and more. 

“Fuck. No, it wasn’t a lie. Not at all.”

Clint folded his arms over his chest and glared. “I get to glare at you, you don’t get to glare at me. I’m not wrong right now. I take care of you and you take care of me. That’s how it works. It’s not balanced or equal if you only get to take care of me.”

James opened his mouth and immediately closed it when he was given another, angrier, glare. He had fucked up. He got it now and felt stupid for not realizing it before. 

“No. I’m talking right now. I’ve been dealing with my shit and that’s great. You’ve been awesome and amazing. You have to deal with yours too. You also have to let me be me and help you. It makes me happy to help my people. Getting JAR to let Nat know when you could use a breakfast burrito made up of all your favorite foods, getting the chicory coffee, cuddling you, being extra distracting so you don’t remember you had a nightmare ... things like that.”

James risked it. He reached out and pulled Clint into his arms, holding him like the precious man he was. It was his mistakes that caused this and they would work on fixing it, together. “I’m sorry, baby. You’re right, I have been dealing with my shit. I just lost sight of some things. I didn’t mean to. I do love you, exactly how you are. Even before you let me love you, those little things you did made my life better. You make my life better.”

“I’m supposed to do things that make me happy.”

“Yes, baby. I won’t complain, or will try not to. You may have to kick my ass a few more times if I forget.”

A snicker. That was a good sign. “I was supposed to be watching you cook by this time. Stealing bacon. Hmf. I don’t mind kicking your ass in training, but I am not having this. Not. Having. It. This having to kick your ass because you don’t listen to me thing is not acceptable.”

“I will do better at listening. Are we okay? Or do I get the grumpy face all day?”

He could feel the smile against his neck. “Not if I get to steal bacon.”

“Deal. Now, let’s get food and you can do what you want, within reason, to take care of me today.”

“Pfft. I was going to anyway, even if it meant kicking your ass again.”

—**—

As they readied for bed, Clint realized that they’d argued but then fixed it almost immediately. He’d been worried that he’d gone too far. But, it had been an awesome day. James had seemed more relaxed too. Not as worried about walking on eggshells. That had annoyed the fuck out of him, but had tried to be patient as long as he could. His patience had finally run out this morning.

“Baby?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“You were awesome taking care of me today.”

Clint looked over his shoulder, smiling. “Okay?”

James chuckled. “I just needed to say it. In the spirit of all things being fair and equal…”

Clint was confused. He sat on the edge of the bed and couldn’t help but wonder if James had thought more about the no sex thing and decided it was too much to deal with. That he couldn’t do without sex. “They were though?”

James sat next to him. “You wanted to see my list and I was wrong to not show you, or tell you about it. Can I start fixing that mistake too? I’m asking because I don’t want to push you too far.”

“I’ll say no if needed.”

James nodded. “I know. I also know I need to say it, so I make sure I am taking care of both of us.”

“How do you want to start fixing it? I thought we did fix it.”

James cupped his face and ran his thumb over his cheekbone. “We did, baby. But, I want you to know what is on my list. Just so you are sure that I’m not going to change my mind about things.”

Clint was most definitely interested. Nervous, of fucking course, but very interested. “What is it?”

James gave him that look and slid his hand down and did the neck thing. “You’re nervous, I can tell. It’s not bad, I promise.”

Clint tried to stop being so nervous. Or at least less nervous. James squeezed his neck lightly and that helped a lot. He relaxed further. 

“I told you I didn’t need sex. It is on my list of things maybe someday, just like we talked about.”

“Okay.” Damn it, why couldn't he just stop being nervous? Ugh.

James kissed him lightly. “I also put having you sit in my lap as a thing I really, really like. When you want to, no matter where we are. Is that okay?”

Clint nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I love cuddling you. You’re safe. Nat is too, but in a different way. Wanda is totally different from you and Nat too. I think I’m confusing myself. Am I making sense?”

“Yes. You’re picky about who you touch or cuddle. That is in no way wrong. I’m picky too about both of those things. I read that website and many of those articles too. Figured out a few things about myself, just so we’re on the same page about me working on some of my issues.”

Clint hugged him. He knew James was trying really hard to work through things. They talked about those things too. Not just about all of his own issues. “I didn’t particularly want to pick any of those labels. Mostly because I don’t know what ones are right or wrong or anything.”

“You don’t - we don’t - have to use any labels. As far as I’m concerned no one else has any business asking about it.” James paused. “Well, Natalia might, but I’m okay with that.”

“Nah, she’ll just figure it out in her own way and adjust accordingly.” he snuggled closer. “But, keep going please.”   
  


“I like seeing you happy. If that means cuddling with your stuffed animals and comfortable blankets watching cartoons, I want you to be comfortable doing that.”

Clint blushed. “I’m trying to be better about it. Really I am.”

“I know. Like I said, I wanted to say all of this, so you know for sure. None of that makes you less of a badass. I like cooking for us and taking care of you in that way. It doesn't make either of us less badass to like and want those things.”

“I suck at cooking, James.” Clint rolled his eyes. “Cook for us all you want.”

“What if sometimes I’d like to cuddle you on my lap and feed you?”

Clint considered it. He thought it might be okay. Maybe? It was a new thing. Something he’d not even thought about before. “Can we try it and see? Just us. I think I like the idea, but -” He shrugged. “It isn’t something I thought about before. Not much of this is. I hate feeling like I’m way behind. Shouldn’t I know this shit at my age?”

“Baby, I’m a lot older and I didn’t think about a lot of this either. I didn’t have time or it was outright illegal to do. I’m just happy we can be ourselves, in whatever way we decide is right for us, without all of the homophobia. Or, at least, a lot less of it.”

“I am certain of one thing.”

James lifted a brow. “What is that?”

“That I fucking love you,” he made sure to put all the feelings in the words that he could manage right now.

“I fucking love you right back. Words fail at explaining just how amazing you are,” James replied in that firm, yet easy tone.

“I’m sleepy now.” He was being honest. It also meant not pointing out that he’d not done anything amazing. Not really. 

“Sleep, baby.”

He was already falling asleep, but managed a grumpy, “You too.”

James chuckled, helping him take his aids out. 

Both of them slept deeply and well. 

—**—

James glanced over at where Clint was curled up with Lucky on the couch as he cooked breakfast, his mood more than a bit wicked and yet full of satisfaction. He thought he’d been going too far last night with their talk. Yeah. Not so much. He had to do better at not thinking he knew better than Clint did about where the blond was mentally. Or what he was ready to discuss. 

It was almost a miracle that Clint allowed himself the cuddling and kissing. James was initially surprised that Clint had clawed his way out of the trauma far enough to allow even that. Then he’d mentally kicked himself. Clint was a fucking badass so of fucking course he’d found a way. To his way of thinking, Clint had healed a lot more than he himself had. At least in many ways. 

He knew better than to compare traumas. Every person was different. He couldn’t discount how much he’d healed too. And he had. It was just that he’d done a lot of healing years ago. Fuck all, both of them would probably both be dealing with their trauma when they were - well not old and grey - a hundred years old. Or more. Hell, even Doc Strange was silent on the ‘how long will super serum keep a person young’ issue. 

The man was so fucking gorgeous. James was so fucking grateful that he could lay claim to him. Of course, he was Clint’s too. He was leaning on the counter as he stirred the eggs, not willing to admit just yet that it made him more than a bit weak willed to have all that gorgeousness to himself, that he could touch any time he liked so long as he remembered to respect Clint’s boundaries. Which he always tried to do. They needed to eat and then they could relax for the entire day. 

With that in mind, he made the plate of food and grabbed the carafe of coffee. He carried them over to the table. “Please get our coffee cups, baby.”

Clint smiled, his eyes lit with glee as he did as asked. He stopped, looking a bit confused when James sat at the end of the table with only one chair.

“On my lap, baby. Sideways so I can see your face.”

Clint tipped his head in silent question, but sat. 

James kissed him, not even bothering to resist the urge to do so. “I love you. I want you to talk to me. Okay?”

“This feels weird, but I think I like it.”

“Sitting on my lap like this?”

Clint blushed, setting both their cups on the table. “Yeah. It’s okay though, right? Like what you mentioned last night?”

James grinned. “Yes. I thought we might give it a try and see what you think.”

Clint pondered it and James left him to it. He grabbed the fork and held up a bite of eggs for his adorable man to eat. He liked the idea of feeding him, taking care of him in this way. It seemed almost automatic, but Clint didn’t object to being fed. James was patient and let Clint work though it, happy to accept if it was too much, too soon. He swapped feeding himself and the lost in thought blond. When he reached for the carafe, Clint surprised him by brushing his hand away and refilling both of their cups. 

“My job.”

“ Okay, baby. Can it be my job, at least sometimes, to feed you then?”

Clint grinned, just shyly enough to tell James that he was going to agree. Eventually. “Do I have to sit like this when you do?”

Oh fuck yes. Yes indeed. James smiled wryly and tried a more measured approach. He wasn’t going to push that boundary. It had to be Clint’s decision. “Only if you like it.”

Clint glanced down and then back up again, blushing bright red. “I think so. Still not sure about it … Is that okay?”

“Of course it is. Eat the last bit of eggs.”

Clint complied. “You are very bossy this morning.”

“I'm always bossy.” James slid the plate and fork away and studied his man for a few minutes. “You okay with staying here like this while we talk a bit?”

“Yeah. Bad talking or the good sort where you finally tell me more things on your list?”

He was trying to look stern but not sure he pulled it off. “If you are okay discussing it down here, the second option.”

“I’ve clearly knocked that particular hurdle all to bits, James,” was the very sassy reply.

He snickered. “You are extra sassy today. That makes me happy.” He teased, “Is that the real reason you’re being sassy? Or is it just you being happy?”

Clint tapped his chin, looking all serious. Then he nodded. “Both? Yeah, going to have to go with both.”

Utterly delighted, James laughed and then kissed him until both of them were forced to pull back, grasping for control. It should not amuse him to see Clint being all sassy and maybe if they actually were having sex or discussing sex, it would be handled differently. He never minded taking a step back and allowing Clint time to be okay again. That was why they instigated a basic traffic stop style safe word system even if sex never happened. It would assure both of them that no boundaries were being crossed that shouldn’t be.

“You are too cute.”

Clint playfully pouted. “Banned word. Bad. Ugh.”

“Do you want to hear what things are on my list?”

“Uh yes. I said that. Stop teasing me.”

James would have strung it along a bit longer, but fuck it all, he wanted to get to the talking and rules and then maybe, just maybe something else on his list. Not that anything was actually sex related, except his known dislikes. He hoped that talking about it was okay and didn’t harm Clint. He wanted to be sure that his guy understood, really truly understood that everyone had things they didn't like instead of it being off a website. “Very important rules. You remember them?”

Clint glared, though it wasn’t as lethal as usual. “We’ve been over this, James. Safe, sane, consensual. Got it. Safeword is Denmark. For both of us.” Rolling his eyes, Clint added, “Green means keep fucking going, yellow hey fucking wait a second, and red is fucking stop right now.”

“We can stop right here. Talk about this later.”

Wide-eyed innocence that didn't quite hide the wicked. “Why? I explained the rules like you wanted.”

He lifted a brow. “I’m trying to actually put my foot down about the sass.”

Clint’s grin was cocky. “You love me. Putting your foot down would just make us both grumpy.”

“I do indeed.” James nearly cussed aloud. Damn it, he wasn’t wrong about the second part. “This time, because we do need to have this discussion, I’m not going to argue.”

Some part of his mind warned him that phrasing it that way was basically a challenge accepted sort of thing and Clint had never, ever turned down a challenge. 

—**—-


	6. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Clint make a trip into town. Pies are discussed. Pouts happen too.

“No.” 

Clint shot James a look that wasn’t quite a glare or a pout, but still made his objection obvious. Well, to James not anyone else. He wouldn’t ever lower his usual for public consumption pain in the ass level but some things were private. “Why not? Jeez, not a five year old.”

“Riddle me this. Do you want to deal with yourself if you eat any more sugar today?”

The woman behind the counter was grinning. It was not the first conversation like this that she’d watched. So, much to Clint's glee, she did what she always did and began boxing up what he wanted. She handed it over a few minutes later and took the money, and tip, happily. Clint carried the three boxes of baked goods out and down the street to the truck. If he was a tad bouncy or jittery, he was going to ignore it. James was eying him as he re-locked the truck. 

“What? I wasn’t planning on eating any more sugar type foods. You promised pizza and my choice of movie when we get home if I didn’t.”

James had that look in his eyes. The one that, if they didn’t really need to get groceries, would have had him climbing back in the truck to go home right this minute. He blushed, grateful that it was still cold enough weather that anyone who saw would think it was from the cold. 

“It was not my fault that all the ladies at the farmer’s market thought I needed free samples, James.” He pouted now, since no one else could see them where they were standing between two parked trucks. 

James’ lips twitched and Clint knew he was trying not to smile. “I suppose it isn’t your fault that every grandma in a fifty mile radius thinks they need to feed you.”

“It’s ‘cause I’m adorable.” Clint grinned, stepping back on the sidewalk. 

“Can’t deny that.” James was smiling and relaxed and happy. 

Clint dared, because this particular town had proven to be safe, to slip his hand in James as they made their way down to the grocery store. He liked being able to claim James in public. No one knew, or if they did they respected their privacy, who they were. “You know what.”

“Hmmm?”

“I think we should take a trip somewhere.”

“To do what?”

Well, he hadn’t gotten that far with the plans yet. It was just that he wanted them to go and do things. One thing he missed was seeing new places or needing to use one of the many languages he knew. It just seemed like a good idea. Get back out into the world and give the area a break. They’d been here for months and that was a pattern, a habit, and habits got you killed. 

“I dunno. Visit someplace we want to. Ski? Climb a mountain? We've been here what four months?”

“About that long.” James paused as if thinking over possible things to do. “Fish? We could go ice fishing.”

Clint stopped, utterly horrified. “You have got to be kidding me!? Fishing is the second sign of madness, you know. Plus. it’s boring as hell. You have to sit there. Silent. For hours. You don’t get to shoot people as a reward either.”

James laughed outright. “What’s the first sign?”

“I used to think it was talking to yourself. But, sometimes you need intelligent conversation with someone who knows the correct answers. Or agrees with you.”

James kissed his brow and got him moving towards the grocery store. “How can one man be so fucking adorable?”

Clint knew it was a rhetorical question, but answered it anyway once they were inside the store. “It’s my burden to bear. I like to think I do so with grace.”

He was rewarded with James’ laughter and look of delight that lasted the entire rest of the grocery trip. 

\--**--

James enjoyed watching what had become part of their routine in recent weeks. 

After their initial talk that morning with Clint on his lap, they had sat down and made a list of things that were definitely okay in the privacy of their home. They’d defined home as whatever current house, apartment, and so on that they currently were residing in and felt safe, not just here in their ‘true home’ as Clint insisted it be called. James hadn't argued since he agreed that it was their home no matter where they went in the world. They even made a list of names for things that Clint was comfortable with. Some of the common terminology made him anxious and James was happy not to push those particular buttons anytime soon. Other terms, actions, and such were on the ‘Clint is Not Having This’ list. James had actually titled it that because it made Clint laugh gleefully. Of fucking course, now there was a ‘James is Not Having This’ list too but his wasn’t nearly as extensive. They actually had two lists, ones safe for others to see written on the whiteboard in the control room and the ones that were private. Those were kept in their room. 

His lips twitched when Clint brought him the bakery boxes, grinning wickedly. 

“See, I didn’t open even one of them. Do I get a treat?”

James crooked his finger and Clint obligingly leaned down for a kiss. “You definitely get a treat, baby. Though I should take over picking the show we watch since you ate all that sugar and will probably fall asleep soon.”

Clint pouted, but set the boxes on the table. “I thought you said it wasn’t my fault all the grandmas want to feed me.”

“But, you could say no thank you or take it with you.”

Clint was clearly scandalized. “That would hurt their feelings. I can’t hurt the sweet grandmas' feelings, James.”

It took every last bit of his control not to either give in, roll his eyes, or laugh. “You ignore that Nancy woman well enough.”

“She is not a grandma! She just tries to get us to buy her crappy pies because she wants to flirt with you. She’s more likely to poison me so she can try for you. The bitch.” 

James sighed, but kissed him again. “She has no idea how many times I’ve saved her from your knives. I like seeing you all protective and possessive.” Another kiss since the other man was still irritated. Then he pulled Clint into his lap. “I am not interested, baby. Not in anyone but you.”

An eye roll and a, “I know that. Jeez.”

James was chuckling and couldn’t resist teasing a bit more. “How do you know her pies are crappy?”

“Grandma Eliza said so.” Clint was pouting again and James just shook his head. 

“Which one is that?” He knew, he just adored seeing Clint get all cute about the subject. The man was serious about baked goods and the lovely grandmas who had stalls at the farmer’s market. He didn’t dare say how cute it was aloud. Well, not unless he wanted to see Clint get all pissy about it. 

“The one with all the blue ribbons, James. The blueberry pies that even you can’t deny are fucking amazing.”

He bit back his grin. “Ohhh that one. We bought one, right? Because they are the best blueberry pies. See, not denying it. In fact, I might eat the whole pie and make you wait until we go back to town to have any.”

“Mean James. Not nice.” 

He happily kissed that pout away too. Good god, this was too much fun. “Yes, baby. I think that is what I’m going to do.”

“I don’t like that type of punishment.”

He wasn’t about to make himself sick eating an entire pie, but Clint didn’t know that. Hence it being a punishment. One brow shot up. This teasing game they had going was way too much fun. “Which means it is an actual punishment.”

Clint just cuddled closer and didn’t object. “Treat?”

“Popcorn,” James said, trying to sound firm and not quite managing it. Damn it. It was just too much fun to tease and play in their own way to actually be upset about how sugar high Clint was right now. 

Clint huffed, though the light in his eyes told James that his guy was enjoying this as much as he was. “Jeez. Not a treat, except maybe for Lucky. Mean James.”

He laughed outright. “Popcorn and one of those horribly cheesy British comedy shows?”

Clint tapped his chin. “Acceptable. I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one is a bit shorter. Seemed a good place to break it all up though. Hope you enjoyed reading!


	7. Hold the line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James’ phone started ringing and Clint, after a quick glance to see that it was Steve calling, ignored it. Steve was on the ‘shit James needs to still deal with’ list. Right at the fucking top. Not that he was judging. The ‘shit Clint needs to deal with’ list, and yes both were real, written down lists, started with the documents and keys sitting in the safe down in the cellar. He would. He sort of had been. One only completely ignored Doc Strange’s pointed suggestions if one was a total fucking moron. He wasn’t, thank you very much, just putting it off until other shit was dealt with. James had made him promise to deal with it before even discussing a trip anywhere. So, he would. This week. No putting it off any longer.

\--**--

It was difficult to be grumpy over the foot of snow on the ground even though it was the first of March. Clint liked to grumble about the cold. But really to him, at least these days, it meant warm fires, excellent coffee, James, and home. He’d not erased the bad memories he’d once associated with winter, just accepted them and then set about replacing them with good ones. That was a difficult thing to do, but once he’d accepted that memories just couldn’t be erased (not unless it was the horrible monstrous Chair way and yeah not a fucking chance) but had to be dealt with so they could fade or not hurt so much he’d been able to finally move on. 

He sipped his coffee, watching James and Lucky on their morning walk. He’d come downstairs to find the fire going, coffee waiting, warm muffins on the cooling rack, and his man and their dog outside. It had made him laugh to see James clearing a path and Lucky looking all bouncy and excited. He could have actually pulled on real clothes, since he hadn’t bothered to get out of pyjamas and hadn’t bothered with a shirt since they kept the house so warm, and joined them. He had been content to stay in. This time. 

Refilling his cup and judging that James wouldn’t be in for at least ten more minutes, he cocked his hip against the counter and continued watching, letting his mind drift a bit. He’d not thought or even ever dreamed of being this happy and content. There were things he, well both of them, would probably deal with forever, but that was okay too. 

It had been, he could admit it now, fucking difficult to sit down and read all the therapy and trauma information. Intel, he still had to remind himself some days, intel was something that he’d always associated with being good at things; his jobs as an agent, assassin, or Avenger. Intel helped him go from a poor, uneducated and traumatized kid on the streets to a world class assassin and then top S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. An Avenger, a fucking badass superhero. Intel got him an education. It wasn’t a fancy one or even legitimate in a way that most people would consider. It worked for him. It made him even deadlier because he didn’t mind playing up the dumb guy from a farm thing if it meant he was underestimated. It had saved his ass on many occasions. 

Refilling his cup again, he checked and saw James heading into the garage. He held off filling the second cup just yet. His thoughts drifted to their friends, their extended wacky family of sorts.

Wanda and Pietro had called just yesterday for what had been deemed their weekly ‘call to the dads’. Both were flourishing in Wakanda. Part of him wanted them here, in the home he and James had made. But, he also understood that it was a selfish want. Pietro was laughing and joking more. Wanda was happier too. They were in school with Shuri and enjoying life in general. T’Challa made contact about once a month, just touching base and letting them know that all was well. He did want to visit soon, just to see with his own eyes. 

Nat called, though she seemed to not have a set schedule. She also never went more than three weeks without texting to say she was video calling and they’d best not be doing anything she’d need to shoot them for when they answered. James had teased her about thinking of them naked more than a few times now. It amused them both to pretty much taunt her, just for fun. They knew that they were risking maiming, but it was still fun. Clint knew that she knew, at least some things. She never asked as of late how her boys were doing, she asked about her guys now. James swore he’d not said a word, and they chalked it up to Nat being her scary accurate and all knowing self. Sometimes Sam was with her and would join in the conversation.

James’ phone started ringing and Clint, after a quick glance to see that it was Steve calling, ignored it. Steve was on the ‘shit James needs to still deal with’ list. Right at the fucking top. Not that he was judging. The ‘shit Clint needs to deal with’ list, and yes both were real, written down lists, started with the documents and keys sitting in the safe down in the cellar. He would. He sort of had been. One only completely ignored Doc Strange’s pointed suggestions if one was a total fucking moron. He wasn’t, thank you very much, just putting it off until other shit was dealt with. James had made him promise to deal with it before even discussing a trip anywhere. So, he would. This week. No putting it off any longer. 

James’ phone rang. Stopped. Rang again and again. The sixth time, Clint grabbed it and answered. He knew James didn’t mind anymore than he minded James answering his if he was closer to their phones or Clint was busy. 

“Fucks sake, it’s not even eight a.m.” 

“Language.”

“Yeah, no. Is there a world ending emergency?”

“No. I need to talk to Buck-”

“James,” he snipped, not having it. Not at all. “You miss your therapy sessions, Cap? You had been doing so well addressing James correctly before.”

A sigh. “Sorry. It was easier when he was here and I could make a habit of it. Why are you answering his phone? Is he okay?”

Clint rubbed a hand over his face and reminded himself that flying to NYC and stabbing the man for being a dumbass was not acceptable. “Perfectly fine, just busy. I’m answering it because I fucking can.”

“Language, Clint.” Ohhh that condescending tone really made him want to rethink the no stabbing thing. 

“Fuck that noise. You are not and never have been my boss. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do in my own fucking home. Now, shall I have James call you when he is not busy or can I just hang up and forget you called?”

“There are Rules of being an Avenger now, Clint. I’m in charge of the Avengers and I make those Rules.”

He nearly crushed the cup in his clenched fist. A deep breath and he set it down on the counter. “You threatening me?”

“We have Rules for a reason.” 

The pompous tone set off that part of him that really fucking hated rules and authority and he was really glad that James walked in and and took the phone before he could say anything regrettable. 

James’ eyes narrowed as he took in Clint’s current mood. “What the fuck, Steve.”

Clint focused on pouring James’ coffee rather than the rage. Then he was going to enjoy the show. With a muffin. James had clearly reached the end of his considerable patience. He slid between his man and the counter, his back to James’ front and grinned when James wrapped one arm around him, hand splayed on his abs possessively. It improved his mood considerably.

“Language.” Steve wasn’t bothering to be quiet, so it wasn’t really eavesdropping. “I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you are doing okay? You can come back, we are all at HQ. I told you about it before Christmas, remember?”

Stabbing him, in the fucking eye, was sounding better by the second. 

“I will not have you policing my fucking word usage and have no issues with my memory, Steve. Check your tone or I’m hanging up.”

Clint shouldn’t be so delighted, but he was. James was proving, once again, just how badass he was. It was making Clint all sorts of happy.

“Like I told Clint, there are Rules now for Avengers. Stark did enough damage, we can’t have bad press because you two can’t seem to comprehend that gutter language isn’t acceptable for Avengers.”

Clint turned his head and checked that yes, that murderous look was all over James’ face. He really wanted to say how proud he was right now. So fucking proud. 

“Is that what you’re doing now? Threatening me? Both of us?”

Steve, the idiot, didn’t seem to understand the danger. Clint did. He loved it. A lot. He pressed a kiss on James’ neck and waited for the explosion. 

“If I have to. I don’t want to. Tell me where you are and I can send Sam. You can come back here, stay in your room at HQ until you find a place of your own.”

“Send Sam?! My room?! You’ve fucking lost the plot!”

Clint slapped a hand over his mouth, laughing was definitely not appropriate right now. Later though he was going to laugh until he cried. Literally. 

“You have been away for far too long. You should be back here, in therapy, and adjusting in a healthy way.”

Uh oh. He was not laughing now. In fact, he was wondering if - with enough explosives - that whole ‘super serum heals you’ thing would be moot. He really, really wanted to try it. ‘Cap go boom’ seemed like a really excellent headline for the five o’clock news.

James’ voice was full of barely controlled violence and rage. Clint laid a hand over the one on his abs and sank back, hoping to sooth just enough to help. He could feel James relax slightly. Good. 

“You can go fuck yourself. Sideways. With a twist. If you want to threaten us with not being on your new and shiny Avengers team, so fucking be it. When the next big bad arrives and you don’t have Clint kicking ass like the badass he is; calling out locations and in general running the fucking battles ... well, don’t fucking come crying to us when your asses get kicked.” He paused, a shaky breath and then that icy control was back. “If you think we aren’t necessary to winning or aren’t good enough to play vital roles on your team, fine. See how long Natalia sticks around after you have to explain all the shit you just spewed about her best friend. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t shoot you.”

Steve sighed. “I want you on the team, James. I want my friend back here where I can see if you are doing okay or not.”

“If I have to say that I am fine one more fucking time, I’ll come back to the city and shoot you myself. You do not get to dictate anything about my life. You never have and you never fucking will. Until you understand that, we have nothing to talk about.”

“He’s taking advantage of you.”

Killing him definitely moved right to the top of Clint’s to-do list. It probably would take them less than thirty minutes to get to NYC when factoring in getting dressed and sorting the explosives. Ten minutes to subdue and rig him up with aforementioned explosives. Maybe ten more to enjoy the aftermath. They could be home before lunch. 

“Shut your fucking mouth. You condescending, dim witted, fucking clueless jackass. No one is taking advantage of me. I will NOT have Clint insulted by some homophobic fuckwit who, despite plenty of time and therapy, can’t seem to grasp the reality of the situation.”

Awwwwww, that was all sorts of adorable. James was Not. Having. It. Clint kissed his neck again, a thank you for defending him so sweetly. He would pay Cap back, in his own way and time. He just understood now how important it was to James to defend him too.

“I’m not being homophobic. You were in a bad place, mentally. You didn’t get help. He took advantage. Moved you out and for-”

“Not. One. More. Word.”

“I just want my friend back,” was the sad, woebegone reply. “I don’t recognize you at all. I took Bucky, my friend, my  _ best _ friend to Wakanda. Whatever they did, they didn’t help. I don’t recognize you anymore.”

Clint could have probably stopped James. Had he wanted to. His field of fucks was barren where Steve was concerned. His give a damn utterly shattered. The hero he’d looked up to, who he’d followed into the fire without question more than once, was gone. He simply didn’t care. It was probably a sign that his mental health was very much improved. He couldn’t be bothered with that right now. He turned, wrapping his arms around James and holding him tightly. 

“The Bucky you took to Wakanda is not here. Not even in this galaxy. Grow up and open your fucking eyes.”

“Let me send Sam,” Steve pleaded. “Accept help for once.”

James clung to him. His tone didn’t give a hint of his emotions though. “Listen very, very closely. Go. Fuck. Yourself. Ask Fury or Doc Strange. Even Carol if she didn’t go back to her day job. I am not YOUR anything! I was a goddamn S.H.I.E.L.D. agent assigned covert missions whilst accompanying you. We became friends. I was sixteen when I started carrying out assassination missions because I had been training most of my life to be a soldier! I was a motherfucking assassin trained by U.S. troops and the motherfucking S.A.S.”

“No you weren’t. These are false memories. Let me send Sam. Natasha even. She can bring you here. Walter Reed has excellent counsellors and you are a veteran-”

James set the phone on the counter and ended the call. 

“He seriously needs help.”

James let out a shaky laugh. “He does indeed. He doesn’t get to judge either of us.”

“No. He doesn’t. We’ll get more calls after that shitstorm. Eat the amazing muffins.” He smiled slyly, hoping to tease James just a bit and lift his mood. “I didn’t miss you sneaking fruit in there.”

James kissed him and then reached for a muffin. But he didn’t let go. “In my defence, the fruit makes them purple?”

Clint grinned. “Are we forgoing a real breakfast, then?”

James had that look in his eyes that made him all weak kneed and Clint did a mental dance that he was helping his guy so much. The old James would have stormed off and not accepted help. “I think not, baby. Muffins first, a morning snack before more stupid phone calls.”

“How did I know you’d say that?” His tone was teasing, the look on his face silently asking if more help was needed. 

“Because, baby, you know me. Sometimes better than I know myself.” A light kiss. “Let’s get more coffee and muffins. Settle in on the sofa. We can cuddle each other.”

Clint wrinkled his nose at the thought of more phone calls. He’d been having a very nice day, thank you very fucking much, stupid Steve. “I suppose I should at least put real clothes on. Nick might be annoyed enough to video call without warning.”

James frowned, his hand soothing up and down Clint's spine. “Blanket instead? Would that make you happier? No one is going to care if you are in pyjamas. But, if real clothes would help you feel better, go for it, baby.”

He thought about it as he filled their cups and the carafe. James plated the muffins, grabbed their phones, and they settled in on the couch. Clint decided that yes, the blanket was acceptable. The only person that might call that was unaware of his Ronin tattoos was Sam and he would never be rude enough to video call without a text or regular phone call first. Nat had made that mistake once and ended claiming she never would again. It wasn’t like she saw anything sex related since none of that was happening. They had fun teasing her though. It never hurt to keep Nat guessing if they could manage such a thing. 

James tucked the blanket around his waist to hide the pyjamas and snickered. “I know that look. You’re thinking of when we traumatized Natalia aren’t you, baby?”

“Of course, but it was you that did it. I still can’t believe you answered with that look on your face as if she’d caught us doing something she wouldn’t ever want to see!”

That wicked, wicked look was back. “If she didn’t know by the third time she called in five minutes that we were busy, she deserved it.”

His lips twitched. “She still might shoot us for it. By us, I mean  _ you _ since I was all innocent and stuff.”

James grabbed the ringing phone. “You’re on speaker. If you’ve called to bitch about anything other than Steve Rogers losing his fucking mind, you can hang up and lose our numbers.”

Nick had the audacity to laugh. “Yeah. About that. He’s heading here right now. Just what the fuck am I going to be dealing with?”

They took turns explaining. Nick proved that he knew almost as many different ways to use fuck in a sentence as James did. Almost. Clint had laughed. Then pointed out that Nick needed to up his game. 

Finally, Nick stopped them. “I get it. Motherfucker. It’s not even nine in the fucking morning. I’m too old for this shit.”

“He’s too old for this shit,” Clint replied dryly. “He can’t even use the ‘oh I was a Capsicle for years’ excuse any longer. He’s been out of hibernation long fucking enough.”

James nearly choked on his muffin. He sipped coffee and then added, “He even claims he’s gone to counselling so that excuse is out too. Just to be clear. We. Are. Not. Having. This.”

“I get it. I do. I don’t blame you. I’m on your side with this bullshit. Let me try and handle this shit. By the way, Romanoff is on the warpath.”

Clint winced. “Uh. One, not with us, right? Two, has anyone died yet?”

“No and not yet. Just warning you.”

“Thanks, Fury.” James sighed. “Any intel on how she found out already?”

“She was having breakfast with Sam when Cap called raging about James being insane, taken advantage of, and false memories. I personally feel sorry for the other diners and staff.”

Clint snickered. “Nah, she’d not lose her shit in public.”

“Apparently Cap has arrived. Just get Romanoff in less of a kill everyone mood when you speak to her.”

“We’ll try,” James said doubtfully. 

“Do it.” Nick ended the call. 

“She likes you more than me.”

Clint groaned. Then he sighed and climbed right into James’ lap. “Fine. But, you owe me.”

“Of course, baby. Now call Natalia and keep the citizens of the world safe from her wrath.”

Clint wasn’t sure he was that good, but he’d try. He took the phone from James and made the call.

\--**--


	8. We’ll crack before we shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat comes to visit.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I’m not repeating myself, James.”

The level of sass made it clear that if he asked again, Clint might just shoot him for it. James was okay with that, he’d heal. What he wasn’t okay with was not being certain that having Natalia on the way to visit was truly okay with Clint. He’d been concerned that it was a matter of taking care of one of his people despite it being not okay for him. 

“I won’t ask again.” He had two more questions though and gauged it safe enough to ask them. “Can I call you baby in front of her? It isn’t on our list yet, so no being sassy.”

“Nat, yes, not sure I feel about anyone else. She might be uncomfortable though, so be you all taking care of our people and watch for that?”

James kissed him, cuddling him a bit more before they had to get ready for Natalia’s arrival. Apparently, she’d known exactly where they were the whole time and had packed a bag and hopped on her motorcycle, despite the weather, and headed their direction before Clint called. “I will, baby. Last question, for now. We are both doing so well these days. How much does Natalia know, so I know how careful I have to be around her?”

“We are! Hrm. She knows a bit. Not as much as you.” Clint cupped James’ face in his hands. “You are very, very good at reading me so I trust you to do that if you aren’t sure what you can say. It’s no different than if Wanda and Pietro or Shuri visited. Which they will, someday. Right?”

“Okay, I’ll watch close.” Running a hand over his hair, James grinned. “I think Natalia has probably been the reason they haven't invaded yet. If she knew where we were, then Shuri definitely did too.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Uhh, duh. We have trackers in everything. Shuri wouldn’t just turn them off because we said fuck it and needed time away.”

He’d pretty much forgotten about that. Oh well, not like it bothered him. “Should we unpack all that stuff we put in Natalia’s room or let her do it?”

“Hmf. We got her stuff we know she’ll like. She can sort what goes where and be happy about it.”

“You going to tell her that, baby?” 

“Fuck no. You can’t either.”

He was laughing and damn did it feel good. Since most of the house had been bare when they arrived, Clint had decided that they needed to make the second floor the guest rooms. On their trips to town or just around the area, they’d picked up things for three of the bedrooms. It had been an easy choice to make space for ‘their people’ in their home. James wasn’t entirely certain what Wanda would think of the sign Clint had picked up at one of the many shops for her room that said ‘the witch is…’ and had a sliding piece that could say ‘in’ or ‘out’. But, it was cute. Pietro’s room was a basic teenage boy space. With as many 80’s rock posters, which Pietro had confirmed he did indeed love, as they had managed to find in it. He would never admit it, even under torture, but looking for things for the house had been fun. Any activity that included Clint usually was. 

“I should get dressed.”

“Baby, just toss jeans or whatever on. I think Natalia is past being scandalized by you shirtless.”

Rolling off of his lap, Clint huffed. “I hear what you aren’t asking and no, I’m not weirded out by her seeing me shirtless. Are you?”

He just grinned. “As you well know, she’s seen me more than shirtless.”

Pouting, Clint grabbed the jeans off the stack in the laundry basket that had yet to be carried up and yanked them on. “Very funny. You know what I meant.”

“No, baby, I’m not worried about it. Are you okay with your animals and blanket being down here or should I carry them up?”

Clint gave him that look that said thank you for knowing what was really going on. He blushed. “She wouldn’t judge…”

“No, she wouldn’t.” James waited. 

“I think she probably knows. She caught me cuddling with the penguin that day in the Tower. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

James stood and grabbed the laundry basket, wanting to get it upstairs before she arrived. Knowing that he needed something to do, James called out from the hallway. “She’ll need towels, baby. Can you get them from the hall closet? We did put them there, yeah?”

Clint pounded up the back stairs, what were originally servants stairs, and James grinned. Since the man was usually utterly silent, he was obviously trying to work off excess energy. Since, Natalia could be arriving anytime within the next half hour, he made quick work of putting away the laundry and making sure the house was somewhat cleaned up - at least the main floor. He could hear Clint stomping around the second floor and laughed. If it kept him occupied and not worried or stressed, he could have at it. 

In fact, with that in mind, he checked all the gun caches on the ground floor. He moved around a few, some set on the stairs to be taken to other locations so that Natalia could have weapons always available too. He took the ones that wouldn’t fit in other locations down to the control room and was putting them away when security alerted him to someone at the gate. He closed the gun safe and opened the gate for Natalia. By the time he got back upstairs, Clint was adding logs to the fire. He also spotted that a tea kettle they had never used was already on the cooktop, a delicate teacup and box of tea next to it. 

Smiling at all the little things Clint had already done to take care of one of his people, James opened the garage door. There was more than enough room for her bike next to theirs. He closed it behind her and wasn’t surprised when Clint slipped past him and was waiting at the breezeway door for her. 

Natalia waited until the door closed behind her to set her backpack aside and give them one of her assessing looks. “Well, whatever you two are doing, and I will shoot the one who gives details, keep it up.”

James laughed, standing back to see how the two of them would handle this. Clint was definitely better these days at the emotional stuff and he knew the man was anxious to hug her. Natalia, well she didn’t usually do well with touching, let alone hugging. 

“You still look mad, Nat.”

“I am. I didn’t shoot the bastard because you should get that honor.”

Clint laughed. “Get your wet stuff off. I have water boiling and we found that tea you like.”

She smiled, full on smiled. “You’re going to want to do the hugging thing. Wait until I’m dried off.”

Clint went stock still. “Wait? What? Are you a pod person? I get to hug you and you aren’t going to complain?”

She stripped of her jacket, thin riding pants that had been over jeans, and boots. “I know you. I can see the good changes. But you, Clint Barton, are never not going to be my best friend that wants hugs.” James signed ‘thank you’ to her. She winked. “Your guy likes me being all emotionally healthy too. All that time with Sam must have done some good after all.”

James grinned. “Like my guy says, Natalia, you’re one of our people. I’ll get the coffee going. Your tea too.”

He left them to it. Like he told Clint, he had no issue with jealousy in regards to the two of them. Natalia was a safe person for Clint. Besides, neither of them were the sort to be unfaithful even if they thought of one another in such a way, which they didn’t. He was setting her tea aside to steep when they walked in, both of them smiling. 

“Have you two decided what I should be cooking for dinner then?” she teased, making herself at home on one of the stools. 

“I’ll cook,” James offered. “I’m actually competent before you make a ‘oh dear god am I going to be poisoned’ face.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Ruin all my fun. So … are we retaliating?”

James barely resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands and merely sighed. “Not that I am opposed, but how about you drink your tea before we plot things? I’m, for once, not sure murder is the appropriate course of action.”

“Since I don’t drink tea, I can plot then. Excellent.” Clint was grinning that wicked, mayhem planning grin. “Don’t ruin our fun.”

“No, Clint.” 

“Yes, Clint,” the other two chorused.

“Oh for fucks sake,” he muttered, setting Clint’s coffee in front of where he’d just sat. “If I get out the cookies that Clint hasn't managed to discover yet, will you two not plot murder and mayhem until after the cookies are gone?”

Clint smirked. “Freezer. Second shelf inside one of Grandma Eliza’s pie boxes.” He rolled his eyes. “I count the pie boxes, James. You know this.”

Natalia laughed, nearly spitting her tea all over. She swallowed hastily. “Yeah, James. He counts the pie boxes.”

“I’m calling Jane at the bakery and telling her to ban you, baby.”

“He says that, but I know he won’t,” Clint whispered. “She knows it too.”

“Wanda’s right, you two are too fucking adorable for words.”

James gave up at that point. He got the damn cookies and even warmed them in the microwave. He knew that they both knew that he wasn’t truly irritated. He was very, very amused though. With that in mind, he got his coffee and watched the show.

\--**--

Clint knew something else was bothering Nat. He was being as patient as he could with her. But, she’d ranted about Steve being an idiot and allowed them to talk her down from killing him hours ago. She had been almost gleeful that James had made room for her weapons, which Clint thought of as his way of saying she was welcome as long as she needed to be in their home. Then she’d disappeared into her room, after profusely thanking them both for creating a safe space for her. He’d laughed when she had informed them that she brought noise cancelling headphones and was happy to use them here because their security was excellent. 

She reappeared an hour ago and after asking James if he wanted help with dinner (he didn’t), she’d simply curled up with him and watched a baking show. 

James joined them, one brow raised. His tone was pure teasing. “I thought we’d discussed cooking shows?”

Clint pouted and winked. “Awww. Mean James. This one has cakes that really look like cakes.”

Nat huffed. “You could tuck in and watch with us, you know.”

James looked surprised, stopping mid step. “It’s a you two thing. I didn’t want to intrude.”

Clint scowled. “As if you’d be intruding.”

“Natalia?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’m this open with just anyone, James?”

Clint wasn’t sure if he should comfort - her for being out of sorts or James who looked utterly perplexed. The poor man was trying to not make either of them uncomfortable and denying himself what he wanted in the process. That was not going to be happening. He held out his hand. James was his first priority. “I’m greedy, you know. I need all the cuddles. Nat cuddles are way different than James cuddles.”

He could see the tension draining from James as he took the offered hand and smiled that almost shy smile that Clint didn’t see too often as of late. That meant that he needed to keep an eye on James. There would be no relapses. He made sure his tone was as serious as his expression. He could see the change in James’ eyes as he tugged him down and said, “I love you and your cuddles.”

Nat shifted, smiling as James settled in at the corner, angled so that he could lean against James’ chest and still allow Nat to cuddle him. She didn’t even have to touch James if she didn’t want to. He knew she damn well wanted and needed the cuddles so it wasn’t like he was forcing anything. She waited and Clint glared when she still hesitated. His brows rose. “Jeez. You two, making me work for the cuddles.”

Her lips twitched and then snickered. “It's a you two thing now, didn’t want to intrude.”

“Natalia.” James’ tone was a light rebuke. 

She grabbed one of the small pillows and propped it up on his hip and settled in between his leg and the back of the couch. She even pulled the blanket up and settled it over them. “More Bake-Off.”

James groaned. “Fine. Please tell me the next episode doesn’t involve cakes, of any sort.”

Clint laughed. They both sounded a bit more settled. Good. 

“You’re in luck, it’s bread week next.”

He thanked whoever was responsible for his current happiness as James’ reply was delivered with a great deal of sass. “I’ve added a call to Jane at the bakery to my mental list for tomorrow morning. I am not baking bread before anyone gets ideas.”

Nat’s shoulders shook but she made a serious face. “Note to self: buy James a bread machine.”

Clint was still laughing when the show started. He didn’t even mind being playfully shushed by both of them. He was too happy to bother working up a pout to tease them with.

—**—

“She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Clint nodded. “Figured you would notice.” He made all sorts of happy noises as he tossed the jeans into the hamper James insisted be used and pulled on his pajama pants. “Might take a day or two.”

James crooked his finger and Clint smiled a slow, wicked smile. “Cuddles?”

That low chuckle that made him so happy. “Of course, baby. I didn’t mind the cuddling downstairs, before you worry about that. I just like cuddling you when it is just the two of us too.”

Damn, his man knew him and loved him just how he was. “How did I get this lucky?”

“By being you, baby. Now, why are you all the way over there?”

“‘Cause I need to appreciate how gorgeous you are?”

James chuckled. “Well, get over here and appreciate up close too, baby.”

Clint got moving. “I love you.”

“Same.”

—**—


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best friends, Bake Off, and a rousing rendition of Werewolves of London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My life looks like it is about to get hectic. I will do my best to regularly update. 
> 
> Enjoy!

\--**--

James was content to lay there, curled up with Clint, despite the fact that he was worried a bit about leaving Natalia to her own devices. Shouldn’t they be good hosts or whatever?

“You’re thinking way too loud for this early.” Clint moved away to put his aids in but came back and kissed James’ chest. Then, his adorable guy cuddled almost impossibly close. 

Not being an idiot, James would not be complaining. He pushed any and all thoughts away so he could simply appreciate what a fucking lucky man he was. He drifted half in and half out of sleep for a while and when he was awake fully, he glanced down to see Clint mostly asleep and curled up, arms wrapped around his thigh, a contented if smug smile on his face. He leaned down to kiss the top of his head. 

“Thank you, baby, for the excellent cuddles.”

“Mmmhmmm. Sleep more?”

“You sleep, baby.” 

He reached over and grabbed the one eyed penguin stuffed animal. He held it out and Clint snagged it, tucking it under his head instead of James’s thigh. Then he handed over the patchwork one. It was tucked in the blanket and cuddled against the blond’s chest.

“Hmf, not as good. But, sleeeeppp.”

James slid over to the edge of the bed, tucking the blankets around Clint like he was a human burrito. Leaning over and kissing him lightly before his aids back out, he smiled and whispered, “Yes, sleep. As long as you want to, baby.”

A grumble, but the blond snuggled in and was back asleep before James made it to the door, pulling on the hoodie tossed over the chair on his way out of the room. Coffee was needed, stat. He was still smiling when he stepped into the kitchen. 

“Morning. I see he’s finally lured you to the Dark Side.”

He was confused and clearly it showed because Natalia laughed and held out a cup of coffee. It wasn’t just her comment either, it was the fact that she was dressed in pink. Like baby pink. From her hair tie thing, the top, zip up hoodie, pajama pants, and he checked, yep even pink fuzzy slippers. 

He didn’t say a word until he was halfway through the second cup of coffee, just sitting on the stool wondering if the world truly had gone mad. “Morning. Are you a pod person after all?”

She did spit her tea all over the counter, laughing and laughing. 

James huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s a valid question!”

She wiped up the counter, poured herself more tea, and checked something that smelled amazing in the oven. Laughing all the while. Finally, she eyed him, still grinning but calm. “I am not a pod person, James! Clint always says that to tease me.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, this is me when I don’t have to worry if I am safe or not. I know I am here, just like I was in Clint’s apartment.”

“The pink is normal then? What about the Dark Side thing? Don't confuse me before coffee. Hmf.”

“I like pink,” she groused. The grin was sly now. “Your hoodie, James. Do neither of you pay attention to anything before coffee?”

Thinking back to how he’d started his morning, James grinned wickedly. “Do you want me to answer that?”

She glared, though it wasn't up to her usual pee your pants in fear level. “I know where the weapons are, James.”

He ignored the threat and finally looked down to see what was so amusing about his hoodie. He groaned. Of fucking course, the one time he didn’t check and it was one of Clint’s Hawkeye hoodies. Not that he cared, but it was too fun to tease her a bit. “Yes, I’ve joined the Dark Side. I plan on having a press conference to announce the official White Wolf line of merch next month. I’ll expect you there for moral support.”

She opened the drawer that had the false bottom and weapons cache. 

He just lifted a brow, silently asking if she would risk it. 

She huffed, but closed the drawer. “I’m not upsetting Clint by stabbing you like you deserve for that. He still sleeping?”

“Yes. For a bit longer anyway.”

“He looks really good. You both do. I mean that. You both were so tense all the time. I didn’t like it.”

He smiled. “You taking care of your people too, Natalia?”

She turned and took whatever it was out of the oven. She also ignored his question completely. “It’s a breakfast casserole. I couldn't sleep so I came down about 2 and started it. I was surprised the smell of the sausage didn’t bring Clint running.”

He figured if he looked smug, he had earned it. “He sleeps better these days. Mostly.”

“You both do,” she said in that assessing way of hers. “Don’t think I didn’t notice. I notice everything.”

“So do I.” He gave her an assessing look of his own. “Say the word and I’ll make myself scarce if you want to talk to Clint about what is bothering you.”

“James, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you both implicitly.”

He shrugged, filling his cup again. “Okay? Doesn’t mean you’d want to talk about it with me.”

She was saved from answering as Clint joined them, sleep rumpled but fairly bright eyed. “Coffee? Ohhhh is that what I think it is?”

He came directly over to James. No hesitation as he wormed his way onto his lap and stole his coffee cup. James just shifted him slightly, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Natalia laughed, already pouring coffee into his purple cup. “Leave James’ coffee alone, Clint. Yours is right here. And yes, it is exactly what you think it is.”

Clint huffed, but set the cup down and took his own. “You make that when you can’t sleep.”

“When do I get to see this town you’ve been telling me about?” Natalia busied herself with plates and cutting up the casserole. She slid their plates down the counter and then handed them forks. “In particular, the amazing Grandma Eliza and her pies.”

“Don’t push it, baby,” James murmured. “Just eat.”

“The farmers market is tomorrow.” Clint wasn’t happy at being brushed off, that was clear. But he seemed content to let it lay for the moment. 

They busied themselves eating and Clint moved to clean up the kitchen without prompting. Natalia just shot James a questioning look, which he ignored. Unless Clint wanted her to know things about their private rules and dynamic, she would just have to go without knowing. 

“I think we should have a movie marathon,” Clint suggested as he finished up loading the dishwasher. “I know you already cuddled that awesome comfy blanket we found for you, Nat. You should get it. We can relax today and go to town tomorrow.”

“What sort of movies?” Natalia asked warily. 

“You’d both shoot me if I suggested  _ Blade Runner _ again,” Clint teased. “So, what about Nat gets to pick because she cooked us such an awesome breakfast?”

“I’m good with that.”

Natalia grinned wickedly. “Ohh, you may regret that easy acceptance, James!” She turned to Clint. “You get your comfy blanket too, yeah?”

Now Clint looked suspicious. “How comfy do I need to be? Like ‘the secrets in the sauce’ or ‘Nemo is missing’?”

“The first.”

James found himself pulled to his feet and up the stairs seconds later. “Dare I ask?”

Clint didn’t reply until they were in their bedroom. His tone was very serious. “You know how you can tell my moods by the movies I want to marathon?” 

“Is Natalia the same, baby?”

He nodded, grabbing both stuffed penguins and the knitted wolf. He tucked the wolf in James’ hoodie pocket. “We need the big purple blanket, please.”

James got it from the trunk at the end of the bed where it lived unless Clint was really, really upset. He didn’t think upset was behind its use today though. “I take it the movies will help her spill what is going on?”

“Yep.” He looked sad and James gave him a one armed hug. “If she cries, don’t notice. For that matter, don’t notice if I do either.”

James kissed him gently, confused but willing to let it all play out. By the time they were back downstairs, Natalia was on the sofa, Lucky in her lap and the blanket he’d thought was for Wanda, because hello very pink and soft, wrapped around her. She had propped her feet up on the coffee table, now clad in (of course) pink fuzzy socks. 

“Look!” Clint held out the patchwork penguin. “His name is Chilly, isn’t he cute? Wanna cuddle him?”

Natalia grinned and took the penguin. “Awww, he is. Ohh, like the old cartoon?”

Clint plopped down next to her, cuddling the one eyed penguin. “Yep. You remember Nick Junior, right?”

James barely reined in the urge to protest. It was weird having a stuffed animal that lived on their bed named after Fury. He got it, one eyed grumpy man and one eyed penguin, but still weird. He’d picked it out when he was trying to convince himself it had been for Lucky and the one eyed dog needed a one eyed toy. He reached into his hoodie pocket, knowing Clint well enough to anticipate the request. He held out the wolf. “Don’t forget this guy.”

Clint wrinkled up his nose. “You’ll hurt his feelings, James. He has a name.”

Natalia was grinning and giggling, so he just shrugged. “Hmmm, he does? I don’t remember that.”

It took all he had not to melt at the sheer adorableness. Damn it, one man should not have the ability to be so fucking adorable. Clint pouted at him and whined, “James.”

Natalia, cuddling the shit out of the penguin, huffed at him. “Yeah, James. You’ll hurt the poor wolf’s feelings.”

James, playing it up because hey they were happy and being all fucking cute for two of the worlds most lethal people. He was willing to keep them that way as long as possible. “Warren Zevon. His name is Warren Zevon.”

It took her a minute or three, but then Natalia burst out laughing. She managed, “He needs bespoke clothes,” between bouts of laughter. Then, “Also, a tiny piña colada.”

Clint snickered. “Tiny little chopsticks! And a Chinese takeout menu.”

James just shook out the blanket and laid it over Clint before going to get the coffee and tea. If he sang along with their rendition of ‘ _ Werewolves of London _ ’ it was only to keep them happy, or so he told himself. From what Clint had said, the movies would be sad so yeah, keeping them happy was his priority until that point. With that in mind, he plated the cookies he’d hidden behind the flour and added them to the tray of drinks. 

He made it through the first movie, _ Fried Green Tomatoes _ , without crying. He was the only one. But, as asked, he ignored it. There were laughs, especially at the fate of the abusive fuckwit, but they ended up cuddling for most of it. 

“Bathroom break. I’ll get lunch.” 

He kissed Clint and left them to talk, if they wanted to. He’d not deny it if explicitly asked, but otherwise wouldn’t mention the fact that, while making lunch, he texted the woman who made the patchwork animals and asked if she had anything pink. She replied almost immediately that she could have pretty much any animal he wanted done in time for him to pick up the other things she knew he was picking up at the artsy shop tomorrow. He remembered, belatedly, that it was her partner that was the one that crafted the knitted animals. If there happened to be accessories just the right size for the wolf that the woman just ‘had’ to show Clint tomorrow... well, damn it, he liked spoiling his guy. 

He pondered it whilst making sandwiches and waiting for the soup to warm. He thought about a bear, but that was too ordinary. A spider would be hilarious. But, he wasn’t sold on that either. He glanced into the living room to see her cuddling Lucky and felt like a moron. He sent a text simply saying that a dog would be perfect. The reply came as he made up trays for them. She’d have it ready by noon. He thanked her and left his phone in the kitchen. 

He wasn’t sure he enjoyed ‘ _ Beaches _ ’ but damn if he didn’t end up laughing through the not ‘oh fucking no that is horrible’ parts of ‘ _ Steel Magnolias _ ’. Of course, it was paused to allow for Clint ranting about the stupid fucking cake that didn’t look like a cake. And for appreciation of the use of fireworks and shotgun. 

He called another pause so he could make dinner. Clint happily took care of the lunch dishes and Natalia pitched in to help. They actually ate in the kitchen. He’d made stir fry because it was quick and James knew they wanted to get back to the movie marathon. He had set a pie out to defrost at lunch and even got ice cream out to go with it. He may not have anticipated ever having a ‘chick flick’ movie marathon, but at least the movies had clued him in to the need for pie and ice cream. 

After dinner, they piled back on the sofa for two more movies. He’d been braced for more tears he had to ignore, but these weren’t so bad. Okay, not ‘oh good god a dead or injured child/mom’ bad. ‘ _ 9 to 5 _ ’ and ‘ _ The First Wives Club _ ’ ended the day on a slightly psychotic note. He’d take it. It wasn’t as if any of the slightly psychotic revenge scenarios weren’t warranted. 

Natalia offered to give Chilly back, but Clint had insisted she take him and Lucky for the night. She’d not argued, just shuffled off, still wrapped in the blanket. 

As they climbed into bed, he hugged Clint. “You think she is any better after all that?”

“For sure, it could have been more dead people movies. Sometimes it is all dead kid ones.”

James’ eyes widened. The innocent adults dying were bad enough, but dead or injured kids were never okay. “How many movies have dead kids?! Wait, don’t tell me. I’m traumatized enough. I need cuddles, lots of them.”

Clint immediately climbed into his lap. Cupping James’ face, he said in a solemn tone, “Thank you.”

James held him close. “What for?”

Still solemn, Clint sighed. “Nat is this badass, all knowing scary woman most of the time. You don’t even want to know how long it took me to get her to relax around me. She, just being a woman, has to try two, three, four _million_ times as hard to be taken seriously. So, yeah, she thinks she has to be a badass all day, every day. So, thanks, for just being you. And the ice cream, that was genius, just saying.”

“I was just being me and taking care of my people.”

A soft kiss. “I love you.”

James settled them in. “I love you too. You good to sleep, baby?”

Clint’s answer was to sprawl on top of him and barely remember to get his aids out before falling asleep. James set the aids on the shelf and allowed himself to fall asleep. It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he remembered that he’d meant to ask Clint if they’d actually talked or not. Tomorrow, he’d ask tomorrow.

\--**--


	10. Home is where the heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat is introduced to all the lovely grandmas in town. Their fun trip to town is … interrupted. No one is happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update! Hope you enjoy.

Clint had been really excited to show Nat the closest town, the one they went to most often. He was still nervous about how long they had been going there and the routine they’d ended up making. But, he also knew that they could more than handle any problems. 

Nat had kept them informed, just enough to keep them up on current happenings but not enough to make either of them want to get back to NYC and get involved. HYDRA seemed to have faded again after Stark’s death so he shouldn’t have to be on the lookout for kidnappers. Also, the Psylocke woman was up with the X-Men being helped like Pietro had been in Wakanda. 

There had been what was probably the last snow just before Nat had arrived so Clint was mostly convinced that all their winter weather gear helped to hide their identities. He’d see how he felt once the weather warmed up. This town was part of their ‘home’ now, so he was trying to adjust his thinking and anxiety about it. 

They already had Grandma Eliza’s pies in the truck and the groceries. Their last stop was the artsy shop. Okay, so James said it was the last stop. Clint wasn’t going to leave town without a visit to the amazing Jane at the bakery. He was still smiling at the memory of Nat giving that bitch Nancy one of her scary glares when the woman tried, again, to flirt with James. She wasn’t going to be a problem any longer. He really loved his best friend. She always had his back.

James opened the door for them, that little smile on his face that told Clint he was in for some sort of surprise. He liked their little games and pretending that he didn’t know why James looked all smug was one of those games. So, he played along. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already bouncy happy that Nat liked the town as much as he did or anything. Or that James was all relaxed and happy. “Ohh, Nat, you will love this place! This is where we found most of the cool stuff for your room.”

Nat was happy and even almost smiling, which for Nat in public was downright giddy. “Ohh, I love the sun catchers you put on my windows.” She tucked her arm in his and dragged him in. “You’re letting in the cold,” she teased James.

James rolled his eyes, but followed them in taking care to close the door completely. “I was being gentlemanly.”

“Ohhh! I was hoping you’d visit!”

Clint turned to see the awesome lady that made all the knitted things. He had bought so much of her stuff. It wasn’t his fault that she made such amazing things. Or so he told James when his guy was all ‘ _ Really? More? _ ’ Pffft, James was only teasing him anyway. “Hi, Annie! This is my best friend, she thinks you’re a kick ass artist too.”

Nat, currently clad head to toe (well almost) in the pink bits of goodness he’d had Annie make for her and he’d given her this morning instead of having to ship it to her, just grinned. “You are, he’s right. We shouldn’t say so, it goes to his head.”

Annie grinned, her kind eyes full of affection. “He’s a keeper,” she teased, looking over at James. “His guy knows that too, don’t you?”

James smiled a shy smile. “Yes, ma’am.” At her unimpressed look, he winced. “Yes, Annie. How are you and Tess doing?”

“Good! This weather meant we had time to fully restock our booths.”

Clint knew he was like a kid in a damn candy store, but he didn’t bother trying to hide it. This shop had all the things he could spoil his most important people with inside it. It wasn’t shopping, it was finding things that would make his people happy. That made him happy, not like stupid clothes shopping. “So, can we see?”

She laughed. “Tess will be cross with me if I don’t take you three back to see here right this minute.”

Clint shook his head. “We can't have that, now can we?”

—**—

James trailed after the three of them happily. He liked Annie and Tess. They were the first two in town that he suspected had figured out who they were but had made no move to broadcast it. Instead, they’d made a point of treating them like any couple in town, new and welcomed, but part of the town. They genuinely welcomed them into the shop that they owned as well as having booth space in. 

He also appreciated the way they went along with the ‘oh none of this is for us, it is all gifts’ thing that Clint insisted on. James knew he was still self conscious about some of the things he liked or did that were, in Clint’s eyes, childish. None of it bothered James. He’d noticed early on and simply accepted it as part of what made Clint the man he adored beyond all reason. 

Tess was patting Clint on the cheek when he got to the booth. Clint would only allow it for a few seconds before shying away. Tess backed off just before James would have intervened. The blond had zero fucks to give if he thought someone wasn’t giving James the space he needed and went about making it happen. He still needed to work on doing the same for himself. Not that he didn’t think Natalia would step in, because he damn well knew she would, he just liked doing it. Usually, the two women would be all aww and assume he couldn’t keep his hands off his guy. They weren’t wrong, but he also wasn’t going to clarify. 

“I think this should go home with you,” Tess said, turning her attention to Natalia. She winked and handed over the pink dog. “Surely you know someone who will give her all the love she deserves, eh?”

Natalia’s eyes lit with joy for a split second and James was glad he’d thought of it. “Oh, she is adorable. I do know exactly the right person for her. How much is she?”

“She’s a gift freely given.” Tess glared at James. “No objections, young man. None. We’ve been over this.”

James made sure to look properly chastised. He’d only tried to argue with her once, over a wall hanging that Clint had been almost giddy over having for Wanda. There was a tip jar by the register. He’d drop cash in it when neither of them were looking instead. “You won’t hear any from me.”

He wandered off after that, not giving Annie the chance to get on him too. Besides, he’d insisted on paying for the items from her when he’d ordered them and whilst Tess had kept Clint occupied. If he was pretending to look at one of the other booths, one that gave him eyeline on Clint and his reaction, well they already thought him a sap so this wasn’t going to change that. 

He was too far away to hear, only because he would enjoy Clint’s real reaction, the one at home in their bedroom. It was only there that Clint wouldn’t temper his feelings, even from Natalia. His phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket, puzzled. His eyes widened when he realized Clint and Natalia’s phones were also ringing. It was Fury.

“What?”

He was already moving towards Clint. This was probably not going to be great news and part of him hoped it was some stupid moron trying to take over NYC again.

“You’ll want to be at the U.N. at noon tomorrow.”

Clint looked irritated and Natalia lost every last bit of the relaxed posture she’d finally allowed herself. So, they were getting the same news. Clint signed ‘Wanda’ and Natalia ‘Sam’. He signed ‘Fury’. Yep, they were getting the same news. Fuck. 

“I’m going to have to call you back. Give me five.”

“If I don’t hear from you in six minutes, I’m sending Sam.”

James rolled his eyes and ended the call. “So sorry, ladies. We need to go.”

Tess smiled sadly. “Don’t stay gone too long, gentlemen.”

Annie smiled her kind and understanding smile. “All three of you visit when you can.” She nodded towards Clint and winked, her words clearly aimed at James and Natalia. “Bring him back in one piece, if he lets you.”

“It won’t be him anyone needs to worry about,” Natalia assured them, her smile fierce and deadly. “He’s good at watching our backs too. It was a pleasure, truly.”

“Don’t forget these,” Annie said, pressing the box of accessories for the knitted wolf into Clint’s hands.

“Be safe.” Tess said firmly. “Now get going.”

He dropped fifty bucks in the tip jar on his way past and they were in the truck in three minutes. Nat finally hung up, telling Sam she’d call back. Clint was still on the phone with Wanda, but had told her they were calling Fury so switched her to speaker.

“What the fuck,” James demanded the minute Fury answered.

“T’Challa informed me of a closed door hearing tomorrow. He and Wanda are flying in for it. The U.N. just wants to make sure the Avengers have contingencies in place to keep the Stark mess from happening again.” 

“We’ll be there in a few hours,” Wanda said, grumbling a bit. “Neither of us are happy about this. Rogers made it clear the only Avengers that needed to be there were himself, Sam, and Banner. Idiot didn’t realize T’Challa is on the fucking council he is to be addressing.”

“Pepper is addressing the council as well,” Fury interjected. “She called Hill and I had to deal with a fairly murderous Deputy Director. Hill insisted on being there too. So, get here and fix this shit!”

“We leave for what, five minutes, and it all goes to shit,” Clint grumbled. 

James sighed as he drove them towards home. “Natalia?”

“I might shoot him this time, Fury!”

James winced. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he could just see her curled up on the jump seat; all but strangling her poor pink puppy. “Do we know if this is about his stupid fucking ‘Behavior and Morals’ clause bullshit? Or is this about me?”

“Sam says both,” Natalia offered angrily. “We just dealt with Stark going off the rails. None of us want nor do we need this bullshit.”

“Agreed. I do think, before anyone kills the messenger, that Cap has issues with adjusting. Specifically, anyone adjusting better than he has. James,” he added warily, “he seemed to hold out on hope that you will be a tie to the past. Not that I blame him for wanting one thing that was unchanged, but he can’t seem to let that go. I’d say give him time -”

“He’s had plenty of fucking time!” 

James reached over and did the neck thing, knowing that Clint needed it. He almost immediately began to relax. “Clint’s right. He usually is. This is fucked up.”

“I was going to say, give him hell this time. All the fucking hell you want. Just don’t quit. Any of you.”

“He doesn’t even see me as a real Avenger,” Wanda pointed out bitterly. “Or Clint most days. I’ll not let that stand, Fury.”

“The Avengers are more than Captain Steve Rogers. The Avengers are about gathering together those best equipped to protect this planet. Every single person on this planet deserves the best protection we can offer. You four are, if I wasn’t fucking clear, the very best.”

  
“I’m hanging up now. We’ll be there.” James ended the call and waited for the explosions. 

“T’Challa says my Dads stay at the Embassy. Auntie Nat too if she wants.”

James nearly smiled at that. “Auntie Nat? Nice, I like it.”

“We’ll be there,” Clint said, his tone warning James that they were going to have to talk. As soon as possible. He didn’t like this at all.

“Tonight?” Wanda asked, sounding nervous. “Please?”

“Yeah, little witch, we’ll probably be there before you are.”

“Okay. Auntie Nat?”

“I’ll be there to see you, but not sure I’ll stay, sweetie. I need to meet Sam and have a chat about what he managed to find out today.”

James opened the gate and drove in. “Want us to call when we get there?”

Wanda sighed. “Nah. They’ll alert us when you do. Just be safe. I’m going to go now, I’ve been promised a chance to pilot not just co-pilot.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Clint said, his comforting tone at odds with the tenseness James could feel. “Lucky will be thrilled to see you.”

“I miss you all. See you soon.”

James pulled into the garage and sighed once Wanda had ended the call. Then he spent a few minutes cussing. What he didn’t do was let go of Clint. He wasn’t sure how to handle this with Natalia here. He didn’t want to embarrass Clint in any way. 

“I’m going to carry everything in. Then I’m going to my room and then I’ll be listening to music and packing. Am I good to come back when we’ve handled this?”

James didn’t like her nervousness either. But, he was leaving that decision up to Clint.

“You are always welcome here, Nat.” Clint sighed. “No sense in crying over spilled milk. Ewww. Milk. It’s only good with cookies or sugary cereal.”

Natalia chuckled, though it was forced. “I’m out. Text me when it’s time to go.”

James nodded, but kept his attention on the quiet blond who still looked ready to explode.

“I’m not going to have another breakdown, James.”

He smiled lightly at that. “Wouldn't matter to me if you did, baby.”

“Am I upset? Yes. Does this bullshit bring back up old shit I’d rather not think about? Shit I thought I’d dealt with? Yes and Yes. Do I want to take explosives and see just how much C-4 it takes to make Captain fucking America go boom? Hell fucking yes. Am I going to do that?” He paused and James waited. “No. Well, take explosives, fuck yes. Use them on him, probably not.” Clint turned in the seat, careful not to jostle James’ hold at his neck. “How much shit does this stir up for you? Right now, I’m worried about him messing you up.”

James took a few minutes to give the question the thought and care it deserved. He probably would have a few issues. Maybe a nightmare or two even. “I think,” he finally said, “we should go up and cuddle. We both could use it. Then, if either of us need something more we can discuss it. Surely the Embassy has a firing range if we need to shoot things to vent our anger. I know how much being an Avenger means to you, baby. He won’t take it from you. Put that on my Not Having This Shit list. I’m not sure, to answer your question, but if it does mess me up, I won’t keep it from you.”

Clint leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss. “I love you. Just so you know, Steve fucking with you is at the top of my Not Having This Shit list. Second is that this has upset Nat and Wanda. I didn’t even get her to talk to me about what is bothering her. This is not acceptable, James!”

James would have laughed at the tone in which Clint said his name, it was just this side of total brat. He didn’t, only because of the brattiness being a result of everything being a mess rather than Clint just being adorably bratty for fun reasons. “Why don’t you, after we cuddle, pick out a few things to take to Wanda for her and Pietro? Would that help?”

Clint shrugged, still upset. “I’m taking her the cute patchwork rhino for sure. I just wanted time away. I didn’t quit. We didn’t quit. Damn it.”

“Let’s go inside, baby. I can pack a bag for us whilst you pick out presents to take. After cuddles.”

Clint didn’t move to get out. James shook his head. “I will carry you if you need me to.”

Clint climbed into his lap and curled around him as much as he could. “Please?”

\--**--

Clint carried the last bag of gifts and two more bags of weapons and gear onto the quinjet. He was not happy. Cuddling with James had helped. A lot. But this shit was not on and would be handled. He accepted that he would probably always have the instinct to retreat and not deal with things that caused all sorts of pain, mentally at least. He’d also probably need James to prompt him far too often to say what was going on in his head. But, he was done with allowing anyone to fuck with his life. He had a home now. A guy who loved him even with all his issues. Twin terror teenagers that depended on him, on them, to be sorta dads. He was not about to ignore the types of problems that could be fixed. 

“You look fierce,” Nat teased, stepping up next to him, Lucky not far behind. “I like it.”

“I wallowed. I am going to kick ass and then come back home. I. Am. Not. Having. This., Nat. Not.”

She grinned and kissed his cheek. “I’m not either. By the way, the board down in the control room with your lists … nice.”

He managed a grin. A brief one. “There’s room if you want to add a Nat is Not Having This Shit list.”

She laughed. “Ha! Mine would be: Nat is Killing This Moron list.”

James climbed in and promptly rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure the board has enough room for that list. Who is to be my co-pilot this afternoon?”

“Clint. I’m curling up with the pink dog that does not exist and taking a damn nap.”

Clint pouted. “Awww. Mean Nat. I wanted to nap.”

“Lucky it is then. Come on, Luck. Sit up with me.”

Nat laughed. “Well, it’s not like you actually need a co-pilot.”

Clint grabbed Chilly and stomped up to the co-pilot seat. “Fine. No nap for me. Hmf.”

As intended, James actually laughed. A real laugh. He settled in and readied for takeoff. He wanted to take care of business, make sure Wanda and Pietro really were doing okay, and then pack his man, his best friend, and his dog back in the quinjet so they could go back home. Clint just wanted to be left the fuck alone. That wasn’t too much to ask. 

  
  


\--**--


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and James settle in at the Embassy... and are reminded the size of their found family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left! Hope you are enjoying these boys and their journey.

They unpacked quickly, setting up their suite before Wanda arrived. Which meant storing weapons everywhere and settling in the stuffed animals on the purple blanket on their bed. James watched Clint closely, but he seemed to be doing just fine for now. Suits had been delivered, of the three piece bespoke kind and James had laughed when he realized that on Clint’s black suit, the buttons on the jacket were a deep purple with little embossed H’s. His was navy blue, his waistcoat dark brown with little wolf heads embossed on it and the brown buttons. Dress shoes, black for Clint and brown for him, had also been delivered. James had stopped questioning anything in regards to the Wakandans. He was just grateful that they had something more business-like than their usual clothes. Clint had pouted and then shrugged as if he’d expected it. 

A knock at their door startled both of them. James finished hanging the suits up and kept an eye on Clint through the bedroom doorway as he answered the door. It had been far too long since they’d spent any measurable time in places that didn’t alert every movement. He didn’t expect that here, especially after learning all the bedrooms in the Embassy were down this hallway. It was probably the most secure hallway in the city. There was no need, at least during the day, when there were warriors stationed everywhere.

“Little witch!”

James strolled in, giving Wanda time to hug the shit out of Clint. And vice versa. “Hey, Wanda.”

She grinned, squeezing Clint one more time before disentangling herself and throwing herself at him. James caught her with a laugh. “You two look really good, even with this fuckery going on.”

He hugged her tightly. It felt really nice to know that his circle of people that mattered had grown. “Did you wreck the quinjet?”

She huffed out a laugh and squeezed him again before stepping back. She was playfully pouting. “No Dad 2, I did not!”

“Ha!” Natalia waltzed in through the open door. “I’m having hoodies made for them. Dad 1 and Dad 2. You know like- ”

Wanda cackled. There was just no other word to describe it. “Beat you to it, Auntie Nat.”

James laughed. “Is Clint’s purple at least?”

Wanda huffed, though she was still grinning. “Of course. Yours is blue.”

“I like presents,” Clint said, pointing at the table. “Giving them mostly.”

Wanda squealed and rushed over. “Ohhhhh! Hurry up,” she muttered.

James was confused, until Pietro rushed in, sliding to a stop next to Wanda. “You don’t have to yell so loudly. It’s telepathy, I can hear you whisper, ya know.”

She huffed. “The dads are here and you were being slow. Fastest on the planet and this time you- ” she rolled her eyes. “It’s rude.”

Pietro, in the true spirit of brothers everywhere, mimicked her eye roll and huff. “Jeez, I was not being rude. Unlike you, I was putting my things away, not just tossing them on the bed. That’s rude.”

“Don’t make me take all these presents back,” Clint said, his serious face ruined by his teasing tone. “Hiya, Pietro, good to see you.”

Pietro sighed. “I still say it’s rude to not put your things away properly, but yes, hello, Dad 1.”

“Hey,” James offered, still not quite sure where he or Clint stood with Pietro. He was teasingly calling them by the amusing nicknames Wanda had adopted, much like she’d adopted them, but that could be at Wanda’s prompting. 

“Dad 2,” Pietro offered with a wicked grin. “Good to see you both finally in person. Too bad it’s because of some fuckwit that can’t buy a clue. Wanda and Auntie Nat said we can’t kill him.” At a clear mental nudge from Wanda since he glared at her, he added, “T’Challa too.”

“Uh,” Clint said, not happy at all and making it clear to everyone. “Yeah, you have to add us to that list. At least, for now.”

“He’s being a clueless twat,” James interjected dryly. “Maybe we should just let Shuri do her cognitive recalibration trick on him.”

“As much as I’d love to kill him, we can’t.” Natalia was almost pouting and James knew he was going to have to be the voice of reason. “Apparently, being responsible adults means we can’t just kill everything and everyone that annoys us.” 

“Presents now,” Wanda said firmly. “Discussing the validity of cognitive recalibration later.”

James knew Clint was allowing her to distract him. He thought Wanda knew as well, but she allowed it.

Pietro pouted, but allowed himself to be dragged over to the table by his twin. His face did light up when he saw two stacks of presents laid out. “You brought me stuff? You didn’t know I was here. I was a surprise.”

“A great surprise,” James and Clint all but chorused.

Pietro’s smile was so wide that James had to resist the urge to hug him, not knowing how he’d take it. Clint, on the other hand, reached out. “I’m hugging you, if that’s not okay, say so now.”

Wanda stepped back and hugged James, grinning from ear to ear. He could practically feel her happiness as Pietro all but dove into Clint’s arms, hugging him back almost fervently.

“Wanda was right,” he whispered, though James had no trouble hearing it. “You two are the best.”

“We try,” Clint said wryly. 

“I’m sure we fuck up, usually being overprotective,” James added, wrapping his arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “Tends to make Wanda grumpy at us.”

She laughed. “Only because you try to get all frowny faced when I want to do fun stuff.”

Clint, finally let loose of Pietro. “Ha! Key word being try. Now,” he reached out and handed Pietro a patchwork sloth. “For you, not only because he’s adorable, but because all teenage boys should imitate sloths every once in a while. Even incredibly fast ones.”

Pietro snickered. “Slow down and enjoy the moment?”

“Yep!” Clint grabbed the stuffed animal for Wanda, hiding it behind his back until he reached them. “For you, little witch, a reminder that sometimes you just have to break the rules.”

She hugged the patchwork rhino to her chest, laughing and grinning. “I love her! She’ll need a good name.”

“Fiinneeeeee,” Pietro whined. “I have no idea what to name him, sister mine. But, I’ll think of something.”

Laughing, James shooed Wanda back over to the table. Watching their glee over the presents was an excellent way to push back the crap parts of the day. He shared a look with Clint over their bent heads and saw that he wasn’t the only one thinking it. 

A quick glance told him that Natalia or rather ‘Auntie Nat’ was enjoying this almost as much as the twins and Clint were. James pulled up a chair and settled in to watch the show. 

This right here, and moments like it, were exactly why they needed to force Steve to get his shit together. He just wanted to live their lives the best they could between fights for Earth’s safety. It wasn’t that much to ask. Not after all they’d been through. If that meant kicking Steve’s ass in front of the UN council, so fucking be it. 

—**—

Sam had joined them for dinner, but left with Nat right after. They’d discussed arriving almost late to the meeting, so that Steve thought only Sam and Banner would be showing up. Pietro insisted that he go along. T’Challa informed them that he’d spoken to Fury and, as per the Avengers Initiative, all that was needed was Fury’s approval to make Pietro officially an Avenger. Within minutes, Pietro was officially added to the Avengers roster. Clint had suggested a majority vote amongst the official Avengers from this point forward, to which everyone agreed to discuss as soon as this latest mess was cleaned up. 

Wanda was tugging Clint down towards one of the sitting rooms, much to James' amusement. She muttered something about a surprise and Pietro announced that the two of them would find some way to pass the time. 

“So?” James asked cautiously, once they were alone.

Pietro blushed. “She does have a surprise, but also I wanted to talk to you. Can we go somewhere private?”

Intrigued, James set off towards his and Clint’s suite. “Is everything okay? Just yes or no is fine since you don’t want to talk about it here.”

Pietro shrugged, his hair flopping a bit. It had amused James that Pietro had managed to style his hair in a pseudo-mohawk and declared it his retaliation for Wanda’s Viking hair. He said he’d needed his own distinct style. “Mostly?”

James let it lay until they were in the main room of their suite. “I’m not great at the whole sorta parent thing, but 'mostly' is concerning.”

The silver haired boy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It gets better right? The weird disconnected feeling from having all those triggers removed, I mean.”

James ran a hand through his own hair and was momentarily distracted by how fucking long it was. He usually pulled it back and just generally didn’t give a fuck, but likely seeing Pietro’s new hairstyle made him actually think about it. Pushing stupid shit aside to deal with later, he focused on Pietro. 

“It does. Here,” he said motioning towards the sofa. “Sit down or if it helps, pace. Whatever works.”

Pietro studied him for a moment. “You sit and ponder, Clint paces. Right?”

James chuckled, resting his hip on the back of the sofa. “Mostly, yes. I only pace when I am at my wits end. I know that Wanda curls up and I’m betting you go a million miles an hour usually.”

“I do! Can’t help it. Too much energy.”

James grinned. “So, keep you away from sugar like I should do with Clint? But, back to what you asked. Like I said, it does. Eventually. You might have a second or three when you hear one of the former trigger words. It will go away, with time.”

The now pacing Pietro sighed with relief. “I didn’t want to ask until I could do it in person. It’s weird. I was mostly dead. Carted off and put in some machine that healed me. Kept in a cell that kept Wanda out. I - I -,” he paused, looking devastated, his voice not quite steady, “I always had her in my head. All my life. It felt like half of me was gone. Then they put me in that chair thing and I could almost feel her … until the pain and the screams. It hurt so much.”

James pushed off the sofa and opened his arms. “I’m not as good with the cuddles as your other dad is, but you look like you need one.”

He wasn’t too terribly surprised that he had a crying teenager in his arms seconds later. He was grateful for the fact that the stuffed animals had been left on the coffee table and that there was a soft blanket tossed over the sofa. He managed to get them settled on the sofa. Pietro just cried and sobbed and finally cried himself to sleep. Tucking the blanket over him, James couldn’t help but smile at the sight, eerily reminiscent of Clint, of Pietro cuddled up clutching his new sloth stuffed animal fiercely. 

He settled in one of the arm chairs and waited. If Pietro wanted to talk more, that was perfectly fine. If not, all that was okay too. He knew now that James was there for talking whenever he needed it. 

He could also admit that he was definitely going to need Clint tonight. If only they could resurrect Stark. He really wanted to make that fuckwit pay for harming one of his people with that monstrosity of a Chair. Slowly, painfully, and too bad eternally couldn’t be added to the fucking list.

—**—

Clint eyed the man warily. “A haircut? This was your surprise?”

Wanda huffed. “You’re all scruffy. Not usual scruffy, but have been stuck on a deserted island for years scruffy. At least let poor Marco trim it up for the dumb meeting tomorrow.”

“He has scissors. Razors…”

Wanda’s voice skimmed the edge of his mind, not inside, but close enough to be heard. ‘I’d kill him before he could harm you.’

Clint grinned. “Fine. No touching James’ hair, little witch! I keep distracting him so he doesn’t think about cutting it.”

“No details, damn it. But, fine. You have my word I won’t even suggest it. Just sit, and don’t shoot the nice man, One.”

Marco winced and then sighed. “I would prefer to leave as I arrived, no extra holes in my person. Thank you very much.”

Clint snickered. “Trimmed. Nothing more.” He side eyed Wanda. “Bet you don’t wanna know why either.”

She rolled her eyes. “I have eyes, don’t I? I’ve seen Two playing with it. Jeez.”

Marco looked confused. “Are you speaking code? Wait. Don’t. Just allow me to do my job and I will go. The scary tattooed woman already had me sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

Wanda giggled. “This is my Dad number 1. Dad number 2 is with Pietro.”

“The silver haired boy I gave the mohawk style?”

Clint nearly bounced with excitement. Really, Pietro was a genius. “I want one!”

“One what?”

Wanda just groaned, covering her face with her hand. “Awww, damn it. No, Clint!”

“Pffft. Real name and everything, but, still. Yes, Clint!” He winked. “Hawkeye. MoHAWK. Come on, Wanda. It’s perfect!”

“He’s going to kill us both.”

Clint pouted.

Wanda closed her eyes and muttered something about oh fucks sakes. “Fine. Give the man what he wants, Marco. Please.”

Clint happily sat in the chair. Between himself and Wanda, Marco would be dead before he could harm either one of them. Besides, James’ reaction was going to be so much fun.

—**—

Pietro had not slept long. Long enough to get his energy back though. “Don’t tell them I cried?”

James rolled his eyes. “Good luck with that, but they won’t hear it from me.”

That seemed to satisfy Pietro. 

Before either of them could comment further, the door was thrown open and Clint strode in, grinning broadly. The hair style was so him that James just grinned. “Awww, you’re a matched set now.”

Clint snickered. “I know a good idea when I see it. Plus. It’s a mohawk, James.”

Laughing, James stopped him before he said the inevitable. “Yes yes, Hawkeye, mohawk. I get it. You look great.” He didn’t miss that Wanda looked relieved. “Worried, were you?”

She snickered. “Yes! Figured you’d be upset. Though,” she tapped her cheek. “We might need to number them. Color code them? Two tall blond men with mohawks could get confusing.”

Pietro huffed. “Jeez. He’s like four inches taller! Besides, my hair is silver, thank you very much!”

Clint slipped under James’ arm and cuddled close. “Plus, he has the red streaks.” His eyes narrowed. “I already made sure the evil man with the scissors is gone. He wanted to discuss trimming your hair with you. Nearly shot him for it too.”

Wanda just rolled her eyes and curled up with Pietro. “I stopped him. But, poor Marco said trim, not cut.”

“Am I not allowed a haircut, baby?”

“No!” Clint pouted. “It’s been very hard work distracting you all these months. I’ll not have that go to waste. Hmf.”

“Oh good god, they’re at it again.” Pietro was laughing.

“You’re right, we should flee while we can,” Wanda added, snickering. 

All four of them laughed as Pietro tucked her rhino in her arms, scooped up his sloth, and hauled Wanda over his shoulder and ran out all in about twenty seconds. 

The door slammed behind them.

“Do you really like it?” Clint asked, nervously running his hands and over the shaved sides of his head. He was doing that thing where he ducked his head and bit the corner of his mouth. 

James kissed him. “I love it. I love you,” he whispered against the other man’s mouth. 

“Love you.” Clint kissed him, sweeping his legs out from under him and they landed on the sofa, a pleased looking Clint blanketing him. “After we cuddle and I convince you that I love you very, very much we should go out and prowl the rooftops.”

“Maybe I should remind you of how much I love you at the same time?” He slid his arms around his guy. He knew Clint was still antsy and nervous, so prowling around the city and harassing criminals would fit the bill nicely to settle him. “I like your plans, baby.”

James set about showing him just how much.

—**—

Clint rolled his eyes. Really, he couldn’t stop himself. James had insisted they couldn’t go out the window without warning and then asked one of the guards, just to prove his point. “This is not as much fun, James.”

The guard rolled her eyes right back. “Next time, you can mention nighttime wanderings and we will ignore your windows being opened. Or, I can change the security now?”

James laughed. “Next time. Thank you. Is it possible to track us so we can come back in through the windows?”

She grinned. “It is our fault. We know you two well enough that we should have anticipated this.”

A door opened and all three turned to see Wanda and Pietro. She was dressed in her Avengers outfit and Pietro was dressed eerily similar to James used to, a plain black SHIELD looking outfit. James lifted one brow. “Let me guess. You will phrase it as nighttime training? There will be pouts. We,” he paused, side eyeing Clint, “Okay I will argue that it isn’t necessary. You three will gang up on me and I’ll give in. Did I sum it up well?”

Pietro burst out laughing. He dug into his pocket and handed Wanda money. “I should know better than to bet against you, sister mine.”

“Yes, James.” Clint was grinning that wicked grin. James couldn’t hold out against that grin even if he’d wanted to. He leaned in and kissed James’ cheek. “Come on, we can’t disappoint our kids can we?!”

James just grinned. Clint had chosen his Ronin outfit so no hint of Hawkeye being in town was given. “Fine. Fine. You do realise that you’ve outed yourself as Ronin to them, right?”

“Oh please.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “I figured it out months ago. I also told Pietro on the way here.”

The guard interrupted. “I shall have the King inform Deputy Director Hill. Wouldn't want to have to abuse anyone’s diplomatic immunity, now would we?”

James gave her a confused look. “Uh, we don’t have that.”

She shooed them off. “Keep telling yourselves that. Now go, have fun. Don’t get caught.”

Wanda darted forward, hooking her arm in his. “We have to watch them. They’ll be like the Spider guy if we don’t stop them.”

James struggled to hide his grin at the thought of Clint teaching Pietro to use the rappelling hooks and ropes so they could swing from the buildings. “I’ll teach you too, little witch.”

She grinned widely. “Finally! Took you long enough to use it. I was about ready to have a tantrum over it.”

Pietro turned, eyes wide. “No, Wanda. Tantrums are not allowed.”

Clint just laughed. “Let’s go.” He stopped dead in his tracks and laughed until he was bent double, clutching his stomach. He stared hard at Wanda. 

She started laughing. “He says that you two still have a fuck with Phil bet in play. Now all four of us can play that game.” She snickered. “Oh and Hill can’t punish you two with training baby agents currently.”

“Oh dear god.” James allowed himself to be pulled out of the building. He couldn’t help but wonder if Clint would be using that get out of jail free card in the next few hours. 

Oh well, it would be fun. 

\--**--


End file.
